Major  Crawford  Worthingtoa. 


TWO  RUNAWAYS 

.— •— • 

AND 

OTHER  STORIES 

BY 
HARRY  STILLWELL  EDWARDS 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

E.  W.  KEMBLE 


THE  CENTURY  CO. 

NEW-YORK 


PS 

1575 


COPYRIGHT,  1886-1887-1888-1889, 

BY  THE  CENTURY  Co. 


PREFACE. 

THE  elements  dealt  with  in  these  stories  are 
the  brighter  and  better  parts  of  the  older 
negro  character,  and  of  some  of  the  people 
whose  lives  touch  or  touched  his.  Naturally 
the  humorous  and  pathetic  features  have  been 
prominently  brought  forth,  and  this  has  neces 
sitated  at  times  glimpses  at  the  religious  side 
of  his  life.  It  should  be  stated  here  that  this 
negro  is  rarely  ever  irreverent;  that,  however 
his  words  may  appear  in  print,  in  reality  they 
never  suggest  anything  improper.  Those  who 
read  them,  however  amused  they  may  be  by  his 
odd  and  incongruous  ideas,  methods  of  expres 
sion,  and  the  scenes  in  which  he  becomes  in 
volved,  should  bear  this  fact  in  mind.  The 
prayers,  sermons,  and  hymns  given  here  differ 
but  little  from  the  real,  and  that  chiefly  in 
arrangement.  The  white  characters  are  mainly 


oddities  taken  from  life,  and  each  story  is  based 
upon  fact. 

The  author  takes  this  opportunity  of  acknowl 
edging  the  courtesy  of  Harper  and  Brothers,  in 
granting  permission  to  include  here  "  Elder 
Brown's  Backslide "  and  "  *  Ole  Miss '  and 
*  Sweetheart,' "  taken  from  their  magazine.  The 
other  stories  appeared  first  in  The  Century 
Magazine. 

Macon,  Ga.,  July,  1889. 


CONTENTS. 

I  Two  RUNAWAYS  1 

II  ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE  33 

III  AN  IDYL  OF  "SINKIN'  MOUNT'IN"  63 

IV  "OLE  Miss"  AND  "SWEETHEART"  104 

V  SISTER  TODHUNTER'S  HEART  131 

VI  "DE  VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER"  162 

VII  "MiNc"  — A  PLOT  196 

VIII  A  BORN  INVENTOR  209 

IX  TOM'S  STRATEGY  226 


TWO   RUNAWAYS. 


I. 


HAVE  little  doubt  but  many  people  in  mid- 
„.  die  Georgia  yet  remember  Crawford  Worth- 
^  ington,  who,  in  ante-bellum  days,  kept  open 
house  in  Baldwin  County.  Major  Worth- 
.  ington,  as  he  was  called  because  of  some 
fancied  aid  he  had  extended  to  his  country  during 
the  difficulty  with  Mexico,  was  not  a  type — unless  to 
be  one  of  many  singular  characters  in  a  region  whose 
peculiar  institutions  admitted  of  the  wildest  eccen 
tricities  can  constitute  a  type.  He  lived  in  the  midst 
of  peace  and  plenty  upon  his  plantation  not  many 
miles  from  Milledgeville,  surrounded  by  several  hun 
dred  slaves,  with  whom  he  was  upon  singular  but  easy 
terms.  His  broad,  rolling  fields,  his  almost  boundless 
pastures,  his  solemn-fronted  and  tall-columned  house, 
his  comfortable  "  quarters,"  where  dwelt  the  negroes, 
all  bespoke  prosperity  and  independence.  Independ 
ent  he  was;  no  prince  ever  ruled  with  sway  more 
potent  than  this  bachelor  planter,  surrounded  by  his 


2  TWO  RUNAWAYS. 

blacks  and  acknowledging  none  other  than  his  own 
will 

This  marked  character  was  a  man  below  medium 
height.  His  figure  inclined  very  decidedly  to  portli 
ness,  and  beyond  a  long  narrow  mustache  and  thin 
imperial  of  black  and  gray,  his  face  was  clean-shaven. 
Iron-gray  hair  in  abundance  crept  out  from  under  the 
white  felt  hat  he  generally  wore,  and  his  mixed  suit 
of  gray  was  illumined  by  a  ruffled  shirt  and  broad- 
spreading  cuffs  of  the  finest  linen. 

Self-willed  and  eccentric  are  weak  words  with  which 
to  stamp  this  gentleman's  actions.  In  the  long  days 
of  his  idleness,  when  the  Legislature  was  not  in  ses 
sion,  the  negro  was  an  unfailing  source  of  amusement 
and  study  to  him,  and  his  sole  diversion,  for  he  de 
spised  books  from  the  day  he  left  college,  and  beyond 
a  sporting  journal  and  a  paper  from  a  neighboring 
city,  he  had  no  periodical.  Of  course  he  was  a  Whig. 

Upon  the  day  which  I  have  selected  to  open  a  page 
in  the  experience  of  Major  Crawford  Worthington  he 
was  sitting  upon  his  broad  veranda,  which  swept  back 
from  the  front  around  to  the  shady  eastern  exposure 
and  overlooked  the  spacious  back  yard.  Twoscore 
pickaninnies  in  short  shirts  had  scrambled  in  front  of 
him  for  small  silver  coins,  as  he  scattered  them  upon 
the  ground  beneath.  The  tears  wrung  from  him  by 
their  contortions  and  funny  postures  had  dried  upon 
his  cheeks,  and,  weary  of  the  sport,  he  had  turned 
away  the  black  athletes  by  means  of  a  few  gourds  of 


TWO  EVNAWATS.  JJ 

cold  water  skillfully  applied  to  their  half-clad  forms, 
had  settled  back  to  enjoy  the  afternoon,  and  fell  a- 
dreaming. 

He  remembered,  in  that  easy  method  common  to 
dreams,  how  years  before  he  had  sat  upon  that  same 
porch  watching  a  favorite  old  negro  catching  chick 
ens  in  the  yard.  "  Isam  ! "  he  had  said  ;  and,  moving 
with  jerky  little  motions  that  seemed  always  to  at 
tune  themselves  to  his  master's  moods  as  expressed 
in  his  tones,  Isam  had  minced  up  the  steps. 

"  Isam/'  he  had  continued,  "  you  are  fixing  to  run 
away ! " 

He  remembered  the  startled  look  that  swept  over 
the  funny  little  man's  countenance,  and  his  answer : 

"  Lord  mussy,  Mass'  Graff  ud,  whoev'r  hyah  de  like 
er  dat ! " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  and  you  are  fixing  to  start  right  away." 

There  had  been  genuine  grief  in  the  negro's  voice 
as  he  replied : 

"Fo'  Gawd,  Mass'  Craffud,  you  dun  got  de  wrong 
nigger  dis  time.  Isam  is  nigh  onter  fifty  year  ole,  en' 
he  ain'  nev'r  lef  de  place  on  er  run  yet.  No,  sah  ! " 

Isam,  however,  spurred  on  by  the  suggestion,  had 
really  run  off,  and  the  overseer  had  scoured  the 
country  for  him  in  vain.  The  black  was  enjoying 
freedom  beyond  recall,  but  one  morning  while  the 
Major  was  breakfasting  alone,  and  his  two  servants 
who  attended  the  table  were  busy  with  fly -brush  and 
waffles,  Isam  suddenly  stood  in  the  doorway.  His 


4  TWO  RUNAWAYS. 

clothes  were  torn  and  soiled,  and  his  face  wore  a 
hang-dog  look  that  was  in  truth  comical.  Since  that 
day  old  Isam  had  run  away  annually  about  the  same 
time  of  the  year,  and  this  without  any  apparent  cause. 

Evidently  this  was  what  the  Major  was  thinking  of, 
for  smiles  came  and  went  upon  his  face  like  shadows 
under  the  swaying  mimosa.  And  when  at  last  his 
eyes  fell  again  upon  the  old  negro : 

"  Isam ! "  he  said,  just  as  he  had  spoken  years  ago. 

"  Yes,  sir/7  and  the  jerky  little  tones  were  the  same. 

"  Yoii  are  fixing  to  run  away,  Isam !" 

"  Me  ! "  and  again  that  reproachful,  protesting  voice. 

"Yes,  you;  just  as  you  have  for  years.  You  are 
getting  ready  to  start.  I  have  had  my  eye  on  you  for 
a  week.  But,"  said  the  Major,  fixing  his  lips  after 
the  Worthington  fashion,  "  I  am  going  to  know  this 
time  where  you  go,  and  why  you  go." 

There  was  silence  a  full  minute ;  then  the  negro 
spoke : 

"  Mass'  Graff ud,  'deed  en'  I  dunno  'zactly  how  et  is. 
Hit  jes'  sorter  strikes  me,  en'  I  'm  gone  'fo'  I  know  't. 
En'  dat  's  er  sollum  f  ac',  sho'." 

"Well,"  said  the  Major,  "then  go  when  it  strikes 
you.  It  is  a  relief  to  get  rid  of  you  occasionally.  But 
if  you  get  off  this  time  without  letting  me  know  when 
you  start,  I  '11  cut  your  ears  off  when  you  come  back, 
-if  I  don't " 

And  Isam  believed  him. 


II. 

ISAM'S  annual  runaway  freak  had  worried  Major 
Worthington  more  than  anything  of  like  importance 
he  had  ever  confronted.  He  cared  not  an  iota  for  his 
lost  time,  nor  for  his  bad  example ;  but  it  galled  him 
to  think  that  there  was  anything  in  connection  with 
a  negro  that  he  could  not  fathom.  In  this  old  negro 
he  had  at  last  found  a  cunning  and  a  mystery  that 
evaded  his  penetration.  Study  as  he  might,  no  satis 
factory  explanation  could  ever  be  secured.  Year 
after  year,  about  the  first  of  July,  his  factotum  failed 
to  appear,  and  the  place  that  had  known  him  so  long 
knew  him  no  more  for  a  fortnight. 

It  was  seldom  that  the  Major  ever  threatened  a  ser 
vant.  Never  before  in  his  life  had  a  threat  been  lev 
eled  at  Isam,  who  was  a  privileged  character  about 
the  house.  It  was  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  just 
before  daybreak  next  morning  a  knock  was  heard  at 
the  Major's  window.  That  individual  understood  it, 
and  quietly  donning  his  clothes  went  outside,  assured 
that  he  would  find  Isam  on  hand.  He  was  not  mis 
taken. 

"  Hit 's  dun  struck  me,  Mass'  Craffud,  en'  I 's  'bliged 
ter  go,"  said  Isam. 


6  TWO  RUNAWAYS. 

"Ah  !  "  said  the  Major;  "  then  we  '11  talk  it  over  first." 

Isam  sat  upon  the  steps,  the  major  in  his  old 
rocker,  and  talk  it  over  they  did,  until  a  pale  glim 
mer  trembled  in  the  east.  What  passed  between 
them  no  one  ever  learned ;  but  finally  the  Major  rose, 
and  preceded  by  Isam,  who  bore  a  pack  that  gave  him 
the  appearance  of  a  sable  Chris  Kringle,  struck  out 
straight  across  the  fence  and  the  fields,  disappearing 
in  the  woods  beyond.  Only  the  hounds  knew  when 
they  left,  and  these  tugged  at  their  chains  with  noisy 
pleadings,  but  in  vain.  When  day  finally  rolled  in 
with  streaming  banners,  Woodhaven  was  without  its 
master,  and  the  overseer,  too  much  accustomed  to  the 
eccentricities  of  that  absent  power  to  worry  over  his 
sudden  departure,  reigned  in  his  stead. 

The  path  of  the  runaways  led  first  directly  past  a 
growth  of  plum-bushes,  an  acre  in  extent,  that  stood 
out  in  the  open  field,  a  small  forest  in  itself.  This  was 
the  burial  ground,  where  without  regard  to  order  or 
system  the  graves  of  departed  negroes,  covered  with 
bits  of  glass,  broken  cups,  abandoned  cans,  and  other 
treasures  of  the  trash  heap,  dotted  the  shadowy 
depths.  These  glimmered  faintly  in  the  gray  half- 
light,  and  Isam  shivered  slightly  as  he  passed.  The 
movement  did  not  escape  the  notice  of  the  Major,  who 
smiled  grimly  as  he  said  : 

"  You  don't  come  this  way,  Isam,  when  you  run  off 
by  yourself." 


TWO  RUNAWAYS.  7 

The  sound  of  a  human  voice  was  reassuring,  and 
the  negro  answered  cheerily : 

"  Yessir.  Ain'  nuthin'  go'n'  ter  tech  ole  Isam.  All 
dem  in  dere  is  dun  boun'  en'  sot." 

"  And  what  the  deuce  is  ' bound  and  sot'  ? " 

The  Major's  inquiry  betrayed  impatience  rather 
than  curiosity;  he  knew  well  how  secretive  is  the 
negro  of  any  class  when  interrogated  in  connection 
with  his  superstitions.  Isam  shook  his  head. 

"  Lor*  sakes,  Mass'  Graff ud,  don'  you  know  all  'bout 
dat?" 

"  No,"  said  the  Major  testily ;  "  if  I  did,  I  would  n't 
be  wasting  breath  asking  a  fool  nigger." 

"Well,"  said  Isam,  willing  to  compromise  in  the 
interest  of  peace,  "  w'en  er  sperrit  gits  out'n  de  flesh, 
de  only  way  hit  can  be  boun'  en'  sot  es  ter  plug  er 
tree."  He  stepped  in  front  of  a  broken  pine  near  the 
path,  and  examined  it  critically.  "Dere  's  er  plug 
roun'  hyah  fur  mi'ty  nigh  ev'y  wun  dem  graves,  ef 
yer  knows  where  ter  look." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  this  nonsense,  Isam?  Do 
you  expect  me  to  swallow  such  stuff  ? " 

"  Hit 's  er  f ac',  Mass'  Graff ud.  Dere,  now,  dere 's  er 
plug,  sho'  nuff." 

Years  before  —  Major  Worthington  remembered  it 
then  —  he  had  come  across  a  split  pine  from  which  a 
half  dozen  of  these  plugs  had  fallen,  and  was  sur 
prised  by  the  scare  it  had  caused  on  the  plantation. 


8  TWO  RUNAWAYS. 

They  were  made  up  of  old  nails,  bits  of  glass,  red  pep 
per,  and  tar,  and  sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  a  chicken. 
Each  plug  contained  a  few  hairs  from  the  head  of  the 
deceased  and  a  piece  of  a  garment  that  had  been  worn 
next  the  skin.  Each  ingredient  had  an  important 
significance,  but  exactly  what  it  was  no  one  knew  or 
knows  to  this  day,  unless  some  aged  Voodoo  lingers 
in  the  land  and  holds  the  secret. 

The  Major  examined  the  signs  pointed  out.  Only 
a  practiced  eye  in  broad  daylight  would  have  been 
apt  to  discover  them.  He  deliberately  took  out  his 
knife  and  began  to  pick  at  a  plug.  The  change  that 
came  over  Isam  was  ludicrous.  He  clutched  the  Ma 
jor's  arm  and  chattered  out : 

"  Don',  Mass'  Craffud  !  don'  do  it,  honey ;  you  mout 
let  de  meanes'  nigg'r  on  de  place  git  loose,  en'  dere 
ain'  no  telliu'  w'at  7u'd  happ'n.  You  git  de  chill  'n' 
fev'r  'n'  cat'piller  'n'  bad  craps,  sho'  's  yer  born.  Oh, 
Lordy  !  Lordy  !  Lordy  !  Dere,  now,  t'ank  de  Lord ! " 

The  Major  had  calmly  persisted  in  his  efforts  to  ex 
tract  a  plug  until  his  knife-blade  snapped.  With  a 
great  pretense  of  rage  he  persisted  with  the  broken 
blade  until  finally,  sure  enough,  out  fell  the  plug.  In 
an  instant  the  negro  had  seized  it  and  thrust  it  in 
place  again,  and  with  his  back  to  the  tree  was  beg 
ging  so  piteously,  the  Major  could  not  resist. 

"  All  right,  idiot,"  he  said  laughingly.  "  Lead  the 
way ;  I  won't  trouble  it." 


TWO  RUNAWAYS.  9 

Isam  moved  off  without  much  ado,  and  the  Major, 
who  was  not  built  for  running  races  and  climbing 
fences,  had  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  keep  up.  The 
negro  wagged  his  head  ominously  as  he  hurried  along. 

"  Dere  ain'  no  tellin'  but  w'at  dat  nigg'r  dun  got 
loos'  en'  'gun  his  curvortin'  roun"fo7  now.  One  time, 
lightnin'  busted  er  tree  ov'r  dere,  en'  seben  er  dem 
plugs  drap  out;  en'  dat  summer  de  typhoid  fev'r 
struck  seben  nigg'rs,  en'  de  las'  one  uv  'm  died  spang 
dead.  Ain'  nev'r  had  dat  fev'r  'fo'  er  sence  on  de 
place.  But  dey  do  say,"  continued  Isam,  now  anxious 
to  communicate  his  extensive  knowledge  of  the  sub 
ject,  "ef  dem  folks  had  n'  burn  de  light'ud  fum  dat 
tree,  nuthin'  M  happ'n.  Bet  you  can't  git  er  nigg'r  'n 
Baldwin  County  ter  burn  eny  mo'  uv  de  lightnin's 
light'ud,  en'  mi'ty  few  go'n'  ter  rake  pine  straw  'bout 
dere." 


III. 

THE  human  race  has  certainly  been  evolved  from  a 
barbaric  into  a  partly  civilized  state.  At  odd  seasons 
the  old  instinct  crops  out  and  regains  control  of  us. 
Major  Worthington  had  entered  upon  his  brief  lapse 
into  savagery,  though  he  did  not  realize  it.  Ill- 
adapted  as  he  was  for  foot- journeys  of  considerable 
length,  the  flush  of  new  freedom  sustained  him. 

But  the  unwonted  exercise  told  at  last.  A  halt 
must,  perforce,  soon  have  been  ordered,  when  Isam 
plunged  over  a  sharp  decline,  and  indicating  a  long 
line  of  paler  green  and  a  denser  growth  in  front,  ex 
claimed  : 

"  'Mos'  dere  now  !  " 

The  Major  knew  the  place.  It  was  the  line  of  the 
Oconee  River  mapped  in  verdure.  Reaching  the  wel 
come  shade,  he  dropped  down  where  Isam  had  already 
pitched  his  bundle. 

Mumbling  after  the  fashion  of  old  darkies,  a  mean 
ing  smile  upon  his  lips,  which,  after  all,  is  but  merely 
thinking  aloud,  Isam  brought  from  the  well-filled 
depths  of  his  kit  a  small  stone  jug.  Soon,  after  cer 
tain  rites  and  ceremonies  appropriate  to  the  occasion, 
he  approached  the  Major,  and  with  a  triumphant 


TWO  RUNAWAYS.  H 

flourish  extended  a  large  tumbler  of  red  liquid  from 
which  gracefully  arose  a  small  forest  of  mint. 

"  Dun  foun'  er  noo  spring,"  he  said ;  but  the  man 
propped  against  the  cypress  was  motionless,  and  his 
hands  were  folded  paacefully  in  his  lap.  Stooping 
down,  Isam  peered  cautiously  under  the  broad  hat- 
brim,  with  the  whispered  ejaculation :  "  Lor'  bless  my 
soul,  ef  he  ain'  dun  gone  ter  sleep.  I  recken  dat  las' 
ten-railer  war  pow'ful  wurrin'  ter  'r  man  'r  his  fat. 
Mass'  Craffud  !  Mass'  Craffud  ! "  No  answer  came. 

Getting  down  on  his  knees,  he  carefully  inserted 
with  a  spoon  a  few  drops  of  the  beverage  between 
the  lips  of  the  sleeper  and  allowed  them  to  percolate 
downward.  As  the  " apple"  of  the  tightened  throat 
darted  up  and  glided  down  again  into  place,  he  whis 
pered  : 

"  Mass'  Craffud,  es  yer  dun  fainted ! " 

The  eyes  opened,  and  the  Major  sat  bolt  upright. 
The  next  minute  he  drained  off  the  drink,  and  sat 
contemplating  the  honest  face,  in  whose  eyes  was  a 
peculiar  look. 

"  T'ank  de  goodness ! n  exclaimed  Isam.  "  I  bin  er- 
hold'n'  dis  hyah  julup  hyah  fur  half  er  hour.  Ain' 
nev'r  known  you  ter  balk  at  er  julup  'fo'  en  forty 
yeaurs ! " 

"  That  came  in  the  right  time,  Isam,  and  it 's  good 
whisky,"  said  the  Major  heartily.  "Where  did  you 
get  it?" 


12  TWO  RUNAWAYS. 

"  Yessir,"  chuckled  the  negro,  "  hit 's  good ;  but  hit 
ain'  good  ter  ask  er  stray  hen  w'at  's  layen'  en  your 
orchud  whar  she  belong,  er  how  many  teef  she  got." 

The  Major  realized  that  he  had  become  a  guest. 
He  laughed,  sank  back  against  the  tree,  and  soon 
again  was  lost  in  slumber.  "When  he  awoke  there 
had  been  a  decided  change  in  his  surroundings.  A 
low  fire  burned  a  few  yards  away,  and  sundry  flips  of 
bacon  were  browning  in  a  frying-pan  set  jauntily 
thereon,  while  from  the  ashes  beneath  the  brown  ends 
of  hoe-cakes  protruded. 

"  'T  ain'  but  er  bite,"  said  Isam  apologetically,  "  but 
des'  wait  tell  de  fish  git  mixed  up  wid  dem  sum  er  dese 
days,  en'  den  you  see  w'at  hit  es  ter  be  loos'  en'  free." 

To  be  loose  and  free !  The  Major  fixed  his  eyes  up 
on  the  old  negro  as  he  produced  tin  platters  from  his 
kit  and  transferred  the  smoking  viands,  humble  but 
savory,  from  the  frying-pan.  The  words  haunted 
him,  and  as  the  smoke  arose  there  floated  upon  his 
vision  pictures  of  boyhood's  escapades.  Isam  had 
belonged  to  him  from  his  own  infancy,  though  for  the 
first  fifteen  years  the  question  of  ownership  seemed 
altogether  unsettled,  for  the  negro  was  five  or  six 
years  the  senior.  How  they  had  hunted  and  strayed 
off,  and  set  gums  for  rabbits  and  snares  for  birds,  and 
robbed  nests  !  Loose  and  free !  Old  Isam  surveyed 
with  proud  satisfaction  the  Major's  fierce  attack  upon 
the  morning:  meal. 


TWO  RUNAWAYS.  13 

"  Dere  ain'  no  spring  chick'n  en  der  pan/'  he  said 
sententiously,  "  but  er  fuss-rate  app'tite  kin  git  des' 
es  good  er  grip  on  er  flip  er  bacon  es  hit  kin  on  er 
yaHer-leg*  chick'n." 

"  There  is  something  in  that/'  said  the  Major.  "  Get 
your  flip,  you  black  rascal,  and  go  to  eating."  But 
Isam  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  sah.  Wen  er  nigg'r  feeds  he  don'  wan'  no 
w'ite  folks  roun'.  He  wan'  ter  git  off  en'  mop  de  pan 
'thout  'tract'n'  'tention  ter  hisse'f." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  the  Major,  as  he  transferred 
another  flip  of  bacon  to  his  platter,  "  that  it  must  be 
mighty  hard  for  an  honest  nigger  to  live  comfortably 
out  here." 

Isam's  face  took  on  a  look  of  personal  injury. 

"Er  hones'  nigg'r,"  he  said,  stirring  up  the  ashes 
and  inserting  fresh  cake,  "  don'  eat  no  mo'  out  hyah 
den  he  do  at  home ;  not  a  bit.  Rashuns  es  rashuns 
ennywhar  you  fine  'em.  En'  I  hear  say,"  he  continued 
significantly,  "  w'en  folks  goes  er-vis'tin'  dey  don' 
'quire  es  ter  de  year-marks  uv  de  pig,  w'en  back-bone 
en'  spar'-ribs  en'  chine  es  sot  out." 

"  Your  idea  of  etiquette  is  perfectly  sound,  Isam." 

"  En'  der  only  time  w'en  folks  w'at  's  vis'tin'  got  er 
right  ter  git  der  backs  up  es  w'en  de  gem'man  feed 
'esse'f  high  en'  feed  t'  others  low." 

With  an  air  of  dignity  the  old  negro  gathered  up 
the  remnants  of  the  spread,  the  Major  having  fin- 


14  TWO  RUNAWAYS. 

ished,  and  retired  to  allay  the  pangs  of  an  increased 
appetite ;  but  he  was  doomed  to  further  delay.  A 
most  profane  ejaculation  fell  from  the  Major's  lips 
and  came  to  his  ears. 

"  Des'  es  I  said,  dere  't  is  ergin  —  terbacker,  now." 
He  put  aside  the  repast,  and  grumblingly  investigated 
the  kit  once  more.  "  En'  I  reck'n  w'en  he  see  dis  yer 
bag  er  terbacker  he  go'n'  ter  want  hits  ped'gree  all 
way  back." 

Nevertheless  he  produced  it  with  a  handful  of  corn 
cob  pipes,  and  cutting  a  reed  stem  handed  to  the 
Major  the  finest  smoking  outfit  in  the  world.  As 
Isam  skillfully  balanced  a  glowing  coal  upon  the  little 
heap  of  tobacco,  he  concluded  : 

"  Somehow  nuther  sump'n  said  'bout  time  de  run 
away  noshun  struck  in,  '  Isam,  you  go'n'  ter  see 
com'ny  ter-day,  en'  hit 's  go'n'  ter  be  Mass'  Craffud ' ; 
so  I  des'  laid  in  er  extrer  bag  spesh'ly  fur  'm." 

The  Major  merely  drew  in  and  expelled  a  cloud  of 
smoke.  He  contented  himself  with  saying,  "  You  are 
very  thoughtful";  and  laughing  softly  to  himself, 
Isam  retired  to  his  meal.  As  he  finished,  and  stuffed 
his  own  cob-pipe  full  of  "  natural  leaf"  andperique  — 
brought  along  especially  for  his  master  —  Isam  cast 
his  eye  skyward. 

"  Mos'  ten  er'clock.  Mus'  be  movin'  out  er  hyah. 
Bimeby  overseer  en'  houn'  be  long  in  er  hurry.  Got 
ter  git  whar  meat  es  thicker  too.  Dat  bacon  en'  hoe- 


TWO  RUNAWAYS.  15 

cake  hard  ter  beat,  but  dey  don7  half  fill  de  bill  wid 
er  run'way  nigg'r.  Des'  wait  twell  we  git  er  mess  er 
red-belly  en'  brim,  en'  I  reck'u  sho'  nuff  de  fun  go'n' 
ter  b'gin  ter  start.  Time  we  uz  go'n',  Mass'  Craffud." 

The  Major  rose  and  followed  cheerily.  Skirting  the 
swamp,  Isam  soon  found  a  hog-path,  and  presently 
the  runaways  came  in  sight  of  the  river.  A  bateau 
was  tied  up  in  a  little  branch  near  by,  and  in  it  lay 
an  axe  and  a  paddle. 

"  Isam,"  said  the  Major  as  he  clambered  in,  "  how 
does  it  happen  that  you  find  a  boat  and  axe  all  ready 
here,  and  the  runaway  notion  only  struck  you  just 
before  day  this  morning  ?  " 

Isam  shook  his  head  as  he  chuckled : 

"Hit  ain'  de  rite  time  er  day  ter  'splain  t'ings, 
Mass'  Craffud.  Dere  ain'  no  tellin'  w'at  time  dem 
houn'  's  go'n'  ter  strike  er  hot  trail,  en'  de  tree  dat  you 
kin  clime  ain'  go'u'  ter  lif  you  out'n  de  reach  uv  a 
dog." 

The  little  boat,  propelled  by  vigorous  strokes,  shot 
out  into  the  river,  and  gliding  under  the  willows  bore 
its  passengers  swiftly  downstream. 


IV. 

SHUT  out  from  sight  of  the  stream  stretched  a 
Bermuda  sward  hemmed  in  by  gigantic  trees,  in 
whose  boughs  the  cicadas  were  singing.  The  old 
boyish  enthusiasm  rose  strong  within  the  Major. 

"  This  is  the  camp,"  he  said,  "  and  there,"  pointing 
to  the  log-jammed  creek  behind  him,  slowly  mingling 
its  clear  waters  with  the  river's  mud,  "  is  the  place  for 
bream  and  red-bellies."  Isam  fairly  shouted. 

"  Dere,  now,  dey  ain'  nev'r  no  use  tellin'  er  man  wot 
knows  how  ter  fish  whar  ter  drap  er  line.  De  two  go 
'long  tergether.  Des'  you  tek  dese  hyar  lines,  Mass' 
Craffud,  en'  git  reddy  f  er  supper,  w'ile  I  'ten'  ter  de  res'." 

Throwing  open  his  pack,  Isam  displayed  his  simple 
tackle,  hurried  around  and  cut  a  pole  from  a  neigh 
boring  brake,  and,  peeling  the  bark  from  a  fallen 
tree,  picked  out  a  handful  of  flatheads.  Adjusting 
himself  to  a  log,  the  Major  cast  his  line  and  began 
to  draw  in  the  bream. 

"  Dere,  now,"  chuckled  Isam,  "  I  ain'  seen  you  do 
dat  sence  you  was  er-court'n  Miss  'Mandy  Bullard 
en'  we  all  wuz  down  ter  Sykes's  fish-pond." 

But  the  Major  was  landing  fish,  and  did  not  have 
time  to  listen  to  Isam ;  observing  which,  that  indi- 

16 


TWO  RUNAWAYS.  17 

vidual,  casting  an  inquiring  glance  at  the  sun,  seized 
his  axe  and  went  to  work  in  the  canebrake.  In  an 
incredibly  short  space  of  time  he  had  cut  down  and 
dragged  up  enough  poles  to  construct  a  rude  hut,  and 
soon  after  completed  the  shanty.  Then,  with  one 
happy  glance  at  the  fugitive  perched  upon  the  log 
contentedly  warring  with  the  bream,  he  glided  off 
into  the  woods  and  disappeared  from  view. 

Despite  the  popular  notion  concerning  the  runaway 
negro,  he  never  got  very  far  from  civilization  in  his 
wanderings.  The  swamp  was  to  him  merely  a  retreat. 
His  smoke-house  was  elsewhere.  When  Isam  glided 
away  leaving  the  Major  pleasantly  engaged,  he  fol 
lowed  hog-paths  with  unerring  instinct  and  recalled 
landmarks  with  surprising  accuracy.  But  where  he 
was  going  and  for  what  are  matters  that  can  wait. 
The  Major  must  not  be  left  alone. 

Isam  had  not  been  long  gone  before  the  fisherman 
began  to  suffer  from  the  perversity  of  the  piscatorial 
god.  The  bream  and  red-belly  ceased  to  bite.  The 
colony  had  been  exhausted  or  driven  away.;  and  in 
its  place  settled  a  tribe  of  shining  cats.  These  began 
to  give  the  Major  occupation.  His  float  would  go 
under  handsomely;  there  would  be  a  strong  pull, 
and,  resisting  steadily,  a  cat-fish  would  break  into 
view. 

The  Major  stood  this  persecution,  it  may  be,  for 
fifteen  minutes ;  then  the  patience  of  the  fisherman 


18  TWO  RUNAWAYS. 

was  exhausted.  As  the  hour  wore  away,  I  regret  to 
say  that  the  swearing  became  almost  continuous,  and 
the  Major  reached  what  is  generally  termed  a  "  state 
of  mind." 

Isam  was  approaching  the  camp  when  the  language 
of  the  fisher  attracted  his  attention. 

"  Oomhoo,"  he  said,  stopping  to  listen.  "  Sum'n' 
dun  gone  wron'  wid  Mass'  Craffud." 

Creeping  to  the  edge  of  the  brake,  he  beheld  his 
companion  engaged  in  his  unequal  conflict  with  the 
fate  that  at  times  overtakes  all  fishers.  Isam  ducked 
back  and  held  his  sides. 

"  Ef  dere  's  anyt'n'  go'n'  ter  upsot  dat  kind  er  man 
quick,  hit 's  cats.  Des'  liss'n  now  ! " 

The  negro  peeped  out  again.  The  Major  was  lash 
ing  the  water  with  an  unfortunate  victim ;  then  he 
saw  the  irate  fisherman  drop  a  huge  cat  upon  the 
bank,  and  with  the  paddle  dash  him  to  pieces,  and 
again  grind  another  beneath  his  heel,  and  end  by 
kicking  the  remains  far  out  into  the  stream. 

Isam  reveled  in  this  display  of  passion  until  wearied 
out,  and  then  prepared  to  make  his  presence  known. 
Going  back  a  hundred  yards  into  the  canebrake,  he 
shouldered  his  well-stuffed  sack,  and  lifted  his  voice 

in  song : 

"  Sum  folks  say  nigg'r  won'  steal ; 
I  caught  one  in  my  co'n-fiel'." 

He  was  cheerfully  giving  expression  to  this  sug- 


TWO  RUNAWAYS.  19 

gestive  refrain,  when  he  broke  in  upon  the  scene  and 
pretended  to  stumble  over  a  gasping  cat.  Down  came 
his  bag. 

"  Dere,  now.  Ef  I  cood  pick'd  de  ve'y  fish  I  wanted 
fur  termek  dat  chowd'r,  hit  'u'd  er  been  dis  same  cat." 
Isam's  teeth  shone  and  his  eyes  glistened.  As  he 
looked  about  and  saw  the  other  unwelcome  captives 
he  threw  up  his  hands. 

"  Where  you  catch  'm,  Mass'  Craff ud  ? " 

"Right  here/'  said  the  Major,  regarding  him  sus 
piciously;  "and  I  have  n't  been  catching  anything 
else  for  an  hour." 

"  Den  don'  yer  stop  now ;  you  des'  go  rite  'long 
ketchin'  'em,  en'  we  go'n'  ter  hav'  er  chowder  fum 
'way  back.  'Spec'  we  '11  want  'bout  six  more  big  ones. 
How  long  es  hit  bin  sence  you  had  a  cat-fish  chowd'r, 
Mass'  Craff  ud  ?  " 

The  Major's  passion  was  vanishing. 

"  About  twenty  years,  I  reckon,  Isam." 

"  Well,  den,  hit  ain'  go'n'  ter  be  twenty  years  'fo' 
you  git  ernuther.  I  'm  go'n'  to  git  ev'n  wi'  dese  hyah 
bigmoufs  en  'bout  er  minit.  Lor' !  Lor7 !  Es  I  wuz 
cummin'  'long  back  I  kep'  a-say'n',  'Now  Mass'  Craff  ud 
ain'  go'n'  ter  ketch  nuthin'  but  brim  er  yaller-belly 
w'at  ain'  good  fer  chowd'r  meat,  en'  all  dis  co'n  en' 
yinguns  gotterbe  eat  des'  dry  so';  en'  bless  goodness, 
hyah  's  de  chowd'r  dun  ha'f  made  en'  lyin'  rcddy."  And 
Isam  began  to  shake  his  own  prizes  from  the  bag. 


20  TWO  RUNAWAYS. 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  corn  ? "  The  Major  fixed 
his  eye  sternly  upon  the  nonchalant  babbler. 

"  Dis  co'n,"  said  Isam,  shucking  an  ear,  "  es  w'at 
dey  calls  '  vol'nterry  co'n.'  Hit  es  co'n  w'at  cum  up 
fum  las'  year  seed  w'at  de  river  en'  de  hog  scatter. 
En'  dese  yinguns  es  uv  de  wiF  kine  w'at  es  always  up 
en'  er-doin'."  The  Major  made  no  reply,  but  fixing 
a  newflathead  on  his  hook  cast  it  far  into  the  stream. 

Above  a  blazing  fire  Isam  soon  had  his  kettle 
swinging,  and  within  its  depths  sputtered  great 
chunks  of  fish  as  they  rose  and  sank  in  a  lake  of 
green  corn  and  onions.  With  the  earnestness  of  a 
wizard  preparing  his  strange  concoctions,  he  hung 
over  the  boiling  mixture,  adding  here  a  pinch  of  pep 
per  and  there  a  dash  of  salt.  As  he  stirred  the  savory 
mess  he  sang  a  cheerful  plantation  ditty.  The  dusk 
of  evening  had  fallen,  and  the  red  light  of  the  flames 
brought  out  his  figure  in  bold  relief.  He  seemed  a 
veritable  genius  of  the  swamp,  and,  lured  from  his 
sport  by  the  cheerful  picture  and  the  odor  of  the 
meal,  the  Major  cast  his  line  down  and  strode  into  the 
lighted  circle. 


V. 

To  OTHER  pens  must  be  left  the  record  of  the  run 
aways'  every-day  life.  These  pages  would  not  hold 
the  true  chronicle  of  this  novel  expedition.  Here 
only  is  space  enough  to  deal  with  the  prominent  feat 
ures  and  string  them  upon  a  particolored  thread. 
Day  after  day  the  fishermen  plied  their  rods.  Day 
after  day  the  kettle  and  the  skillet  and  the  coals  gave 
forth  their  dainties.  Fish-fries  decked  the  table  one 
day;  a  split  rabbit,  snared  in  the  canebrake,  broiled 
to  a  turn,  served  for  the  next ;  even  a  tender  shote 
yielded  up  his  innocent  young  life,  and  chowders 
came  thick  and  fast. 

But  Isam  was  no  longer  the  chief  factor  in  the 
daily  sins  committed.  Painful  as  the  truth  may 

0 

seem,  it  must 'be  told.  The  portly  Major  became 
accessory  before  the  fact  as  well  as  after.  And  worse, 
he  became  actively  particeps  criminis.  He  learned  to 
creep  into  the  spreading  field  of  "voluntary  corn" — 
which,  by  the  way,  invaded  the  swamp  lands,  and  rose 
in  columns  of  surprising  regularity — and  to  load  a 
bag  with  the  juicy  ears.  He  renewed  his  early  skill, 
and  crawled  behind  snake-fences  to  abstract  dew- 

21 


22  TWO  RUNAWAYS. 

christened  watermelons.  In  short,  he  gave  way  to  sav 
agery  ;  for  the  time  being  civilization  knew  him  not. 

No  especial  time  for  breaking  camp  had  been  set, 
but  the  time  was  approaching,  and  the  signs  were 
evident.  The  whisky  had  long  since  vanished,  and 
the  tobacco  was  threatening  to  follow  the  whisky, 
when  an  event  occurred  which  left  a  tradition  that 
old  folks  in  middle  Georgia  yet  tell  with  tear-dimmed 
eyes  and  straining  sides. 

The  worthy  pair  had  been  foraging  for  dinner,  and 
were  returning  heavily  laden.  The  Major  bore  a  sack 
of  corn,  and  Isam  led  the  way  with  three  watermelons. 
Unless  the  reader  has  attempted  to  carry  three  water 
melons,  he  will  never  know  the  labor  that  Isam  had 
imposed  upon  himself.  The  two  had  just  reached  the 
edge  of  the  canebrake,  beyond  which  lay  the  camp, 
and  were  entering  the  narrow  path,  when  a  magnifi 
cent  buck  came  sweeping  through,  and  collided  with 
Isam  with  such  force  and  suddenness  as  to  crush  and 
spatter  his  watermelons  into  a  pitiful  ruin,  and  throw 
the  negro  violently  to  the  ground.  '  Instantly  the 
frightened  man  seized  the  threatening  antlers,  and 
held  on,  yelling  lustily  for  help.  The  deer  made 
several  ineffectual  efforts  to  free  himself,  during 
which  he  dragged  the  negro  right  and  left  with 
out  difficulty,  but,  finding  escape  impossible,  turned 
fiercely  upon  his  unwilling  captor,  and  tried  to  drive 
the  terrible  horns  through  his  writhing  body. 


TWO  RUNAWAYS.  23 

"  0  Lord,  O  Lord  ! "  screamed  Isam ;  "  O  Lord, 
Mass'  Craffud,  cum  holp  me  tu'n  dis  buck  loos'." 

The  laugh  died  away  from  Major  Worthington's 
lips.  None  knew  better  than  he  the  danger  into 
which  Isam  had  plunged.  Not  a  stick,  brush,  stone, 
or  weapon  of  any  description  was  at  hand,  except 
his  small  pocket-knife.  Hastily  opening  that,  he 
rushed  upon  the  deer.  Isam's  eyes  were  bursting 
from  their  sockets,  and  appealed  piteously  for  the 
help  his  stentorian  voice  was  frantically  imploring 
until  the  woods  rang  with  his  agony.  Major  Worth- 
ington  caught  the  nearest  antler  with  his  left  hand, 
and  made  a  fierce  lunge  at  the  animal's  throat.  But 
the  knife's  point  was  missing,  and  only  a  trifling 
wound  was  inflicted.  The  next  instant  the  deer  met 
the  new  attack  with  a  rush  that  carried  Isam  with  it, 
and  thrust  the  Major  to  the  ground,  the  knife  falling 
out  of  reach.  Seeing  this,  the  negro  let  go  his  hold, 
rolled  out  of  the  way,  and  with  a  mighty  effort  liter 
ally  ran  upon  the  top  of  a  branching  haw-bush,  where 
he  lay  spread  out  like  a  bat,  and  moaning  piteously. 

"  Stick  ter  'im,  Mass'  Craffud,  stick  ter  >im !  Wo' 
deer !  wo'  deer  !  Stick  ter  'im,  Mass'  Craffud  ! n 

And  the  Major  stuck.  Retaining  his  presence  of 
mind,  he  threw  his  left  arm  over  the  deer's  neck,  and, 
still  holding  with  his  right  the  antler,  looked  about 
for  Isam,  who  had  so  mysteriously  disappeared. 
Something  like  the  hold  he  had  had  more  than  once 


24  TWO  RUNAWAYS. 

in  boyhood  served  him  well  in  school  combats.  But 
he  had  never  tried  to  hold  a  full-grown  buck,  and  so 
he  somewhat  anxiously  searched  the  scene  for  the 
valiant  negro.  The  first  words  he  heard  distinctly 
were: 

"  Stick  ter  'im,  Mass'  Craffud,  stick  ter  'im.  Hit 's 
better  fur  one  ter  die  den  bofe  !  Hole  'im,  Mass'  Craf 
fud,  hole  'im !  Wo'  deer !  wo'  deer  !  Stick  ter  'im, 
Mass'  Craffud.  Steddy  !  Look  out  fur  es  ho'n !  Wo' 
deer !  Steddy,  Mass'  Craffud ! " 

By  this  time  the  struggles  of  the  beast  had  again 
ceased,  and,  wearied  from  his  double  encounter,  he 
stood  with  his  head  pulled  down  to  the  ground  half 
astride  the  desperate  man,  who  was  holding  on  for 
life.  Whether  Major  Worthington  was  frightened  or 
not  it  is  hard  to  say ;  probably  he  was ;  but  there  was 
no  doubt  about  his  being  angry  when  he  saw  Isam 
spread  out  in  the  haw-bush,  and  heard  his  address. 
His  face  was  livid  with  rage,  and  foam  and  sweat 
mingled  upon  it.  As  soon  as  he  caught  his  breath, 
he  burst  forth  with  : 

"  You  infernal  black  rascal !  why  don't  you  come  — 
down  out  of  that — bush  and  help — me?"  Isam's 
face  was  pitiful  in  its  expression.  His  teeth  chattered, 
and  he  fairly  shook  the  bush  with  his  trembling. 

"  Don',  Mass'  Craffud,  don' ;  you  ain'  got  no  time  ter 
cuss  now.  Lif  up  yo'  voice  en'  pray !  Lord,  Lord,  ef 
ev'r  er  man  had  er  call  ter  pray,  you  dun  got  it  now." 


TWO  RUNAWAYS.  25 

For  one  instant  it  looked  as  if  the  Major  would 
abandon  his  attempt  to  hold  the  deer  and  turn  his 
attention  to  the  bush ;  but  he  did  not  have  an  oppor 
tunity  to  carry  out  such  a  resolution.  Revived  by  his 
moment's  rest,  the  buck  made  another  effort  for  free 
dom  and  revenge.  He  dragged  his  corpulent  captor 
in  a  circle,  he  rolled  him  on  the  sod,  he  fell  over  him, 
pounded  him,  and  stamped,  but  without  relief.  The 
desperate  man  clung  to  his  hold  with  a  grip  that  could 
not  be  broken.  It  was  the  grip  of  death ;  indeed,  it 
was  now  a  question  of  life  or  death. 

Wearied  down  at  last,  the  deer  gave  himself  and 
victim  another  breathing-spell,  and  the  Major  con 
tinued  : 

"If  ever — I  get  loose  from  this — brute, — you  in 
fernal  scoundrel, — I'll  not  leave  a — whole  bone  in 
your  body ! " 

"  Don'  say  dat,  Mass7  Craffud,  don' !  You  must  n't 
let  de  sun  go  down  on  yo'  wraf  !  O  Lord  !  "  he  con 
tinued,  getting  on  his  all-fours  and  as  near  a  reverent 
posture  as  the  circumstances  would  admit  off  "  don' 
you  mine  nuth'n'  he  es  er-sayin'  now,  cos  he  ain'  'spon- 
s'bl'.  Lord,  ef  de  bes'  aingil  you  got  wuz  down  dere 
in  his  fix,  en'  er  fool  deer  wuz  er-straddl'n'  'im,  dey 
ain'  no  tell'n'  w'at  Vd  happ'n,  er  w'at  sorter  langwidge 
he  'd  let  loos'.  Wo'  deer!  wo'  deer!  Stick  ter  'im, 
Mass'  Craffud,  stick  ter  'im.  Steddy,  deer !  Steddy, 
Mass'  Craffud ! " 


26  TWO  RUNAWAYS. 

The  Major  got  another  resting-spell.  By  this  time 
his  breath  was  almost  gone,  and  his  anger  had  given 
way  to  unmistakable  apprehension.  He  realized  that 
he  was  in  a  most  desperate  plight,  and  that  the  only 
hope  of  rescue  lay  in  the  frightened  negro  up  in  the 
haw-bush.  He  changed  his  tactics  when  the  deer 
rested  again. 

"  Isam,"  he  said  gently. 

"Yes,  honey." 

"  Isam,  come  and  help  me,  old  fellow." 

"  Good  Grawd,  Mass'  Craffud,"  said  the  negro  earn 
estly,  "  dere  ain'  nuthin'  I  wood  n'  do  fur  you,  but  hit  ;s 
better  fur  one  ter  die  'n  two.  Hit  's  a  long  sight 
better." 

"  But  there  is  no  danger,  Isam ;  none  whatever. 
Just  you  come  down  and  with  your  knife  hamstring 
the  brute.  I  '11  hold  him." 

"  No,  sah !  no,  sah !  no,  sah ! "  said  Isam  loudly  and 
with  growing  earnestness.  "  No,  sah  !  it  won'  wuk. 
No,  sah !  You  er  in  fur  hit  now,  Mass'  Craffud,  en'  et 
can't  be  helped.  Dere  ain'  nuthin'  kin  save  yer  but 
de  good  Lord,  en'  he  ain'  go'n'  ter,  less'n  you  ax  'im 
'umble  like,  en'  er-b'liev'n'  en  es  mussy.  I  prayed 
w'en  I  wuz  down  dere,  Mass'  Craffud,  dat  I  did,  en' 
look  w'at  happ'n.  Did  n'  he  sen'  you  like  er  aingil,  en' 
did  n'  he  git  me  up  hyah  safe  en'  wholesum  ?  Dat  he 
did,  en'  he  nev'r  'spec'  dis  nigg'r  war  go'n'  ter  fling 
'esse'f  und'r  dat  deer  arter  he  trouble  hisse'f  to  show 


TWO  RUNAWAYS.  27 

'im  up  hyah.  Stick  ter  'im,  Mass'  Graff ud,  stick  ter 
'im.  Wo'  deer !  wo'  deer !  Look  out  fur  es  ho'n ! 
Stick  ter  'im,  Mass'  Craffud.  Dere,  now — t'ank  de 
Lord ! " 

Again  the  Major  got  a  breathing-spell.  The  deer 
in  his  struggles  had  gotten  under  the  haw-bush,  and 
the  Major  renewed  his  earnest  negotiations. 

"Isam,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  his  condition  would 
allow  of  conversation,  "  if  you  will  get  down — and 
cut  this  brute's  legs — I  will  give  you  your  freedom." 

Isam's  only  answer  was  a  groan. 

"And  fifty  acres — of  land."  Again  that  pitiful 
moan. 

"And — a  mule  and  a — year's  rations."  The  Major 
paused  from  force  of  circumstances.  After  a  while 
the  answer  came : 

"Mass' Craffud!" 

"Well?" 

"You  know  dis  nigg'r  b'en  hard-work'n'  en'  hones' 
en'  look  atter  you  en'  yo'n  all  es  life." 

"Yes,  Isam,"  said  the  Major,  "you  have  b^een — a 
faithful,  honest — nigger."  There  was  another  pause. 
Perhaps  this  was  too  much  for  Isam.  But  he  con 
tinued  after  a  little  while : 

"  Well,  lemme  tell  you,  honey,  dere  am'  nuthin'  you 
got  er  kin  git  w'at  '11  tern'  dis  nigg'r  ter  git  down  dere. 
W'y,"  and  his  voice  assumed  a  most  earnest  and 
argumentative  tone,  "'deed  'n'  hit  'u'd  be  'sultin'  de 


28  TWO   RUNAWAYS. 

Lord.  Am'  he  dun  got  me  up  hyah  out'n  de  way,  en' 
don'  he  'spec'  me  fur  ter  stay  ?  You  reck'n  he  got 
nuth'n'  't  all  ter  do  but  keep  puttin'  Isum  back  up  er 
tree  ?  No,  sah !  he  dun  'ten'  ter  me,  en'  ef  you  got 
enny  difculty  down  dere,  you  en'  de  deer  kin  fight  it 
out.  Hit 's  my  bizness  des'  ter  keep  er-prayin'.  Wo' 
deer !  wo'  deer  !  Steddy,  Mass'  Craffud.  Dere,  now — 
t'ank  de  Lord !  " 

Again  the  Major  defeated  the  beast's  struggles,  and 
there  came  a  truce.  But  the  man  was  well-nigh  ex 
hausted,  and  saw  that  unless  something  was  done  in 
his  behalf  he  must  soon  yield  up  the  fight.  Some 
thing  like  a  spasm  of  fear  flashed  over  his  face,  and  in 
the  glance  he  cast  about  him  there  was  the  one  panic- 
stricken  appeal  that  all  men  yield  to  at  some  time.  It 
was  hard  to  die  there  by  the  terrible  horns  of  the 
beast  astride  him,  whose  eyes  glared  into  his,  and 
whose  hot  breath  was  in  his  face.  What  a  death  ! 

But  the  next  instant  he  was  calm  and  cautious. 
There  came  to  his  assistance  his  fine  knowledge  of 
the  negro  character. 

"Isam,"  he  said,  slowly  and  impressively.  But 
Isam  was  praying.  The  Major  could  hardly  trust  his 
ears  when  he  heard  the  words. 

"  But,  Lord,  don'  let  'm  peer'sh  'fo'  yo'  eyes.  He  's 
b'en  er  bad  man.  He  cuss  'n'  sware,  'n'  play  keerds, 
7n'  bet  on  horse-race,  'n'  drink  whisky " 

"Isam " 


TWO  RUNAWAYS.  29 

"En'  he  steal —  goodness,  he  tek  ter  steal'n'  like  er 
duck  ter  water.  Roast'n'  yers,  watermilluns,  chick'n. 
—  nuthin'  too  bad  fur  'im " 

« Isam " 

"  'T  ain'  like  er  nigg'r  steal'n',  Lord ;  dey  dun  know 
no  better,  en'  can't  git  t'ings  enny  er-way,  while  he  got 
money ;  but  don'  let  'im  peer'sh  rite  'f o'  yo'  eyes.  Tek 
him  by  de  slack  er  es  briches  en'  shek  'm  ov'r  de 
flames,  but  don'  let  'im  drap " 

"  Isam  ! " 

The  word  came  upward  in  tones  of  thunder.  Even 
Isam  was  obliged  to  regard  it.  He  did  so  from  force 
of  habit. 

"  Yessir." 

Then  he  sobbed  forth :  "  Oh,  Lordy,  Lordy,  I  t'ot 
we  wuz  dun  home  ag'in." 

"No,  sir,"  said  the  Major  sternly,  "we  are  not  at 
home,  and  I  '11  never  get  there.  I  am  going  to  die." 

Isam  gave  a  yell  that  ought  to  have  been  hear*d  a 
mile  away. 

"  Oh,  don'  let  'im  die  !  Skeer  'im,  skeer  'im,  Lord, 
but  don'  let  'im  die ! " 

"Yes."  continued  the  Major,  "I  am  going  to  die; 
but  let  me  tell  you  something,  Isam.  I  have  been 
looking  into  this  beast's  eyes  until  I  recognize  him." 
A  sound  came  from  the  haw-bush  like  the  hiss  of  a 
snake,  as  the  negro  with  ashen  face  and  beaded  brow 
gasped  out  an  unintelligible  word.  The  right  chord 


30  TWO  RUNAWAYS. 

had  been  touched  at  last.  "  You  remember  Dr. 
Sam  ? "  Isam's  only  reply  was  a  moan  that  betrayed 
an  agony  too  deep  for  expression.  "  Well,  this  is 
Dr.  Sam ;  he  got  loose  the  other  day  when  the  plug 
fell  out,  and  he  and  I  will  never  give  you  another 
hour  of  peace  as  long  as  you  live ." 

The  sentence  was  never  finished.  With  a  shriek 
that  was  blood-curdling  in  its  intensity  of  fear  and 
horror,  the  negro  came  crashing  down  through  the 
bush  with  his  hands  full  of  leaves,  straight  upon  the 
deer. 

This  was  the  crisis. 

The  frightened  animal  made  one  desperate  plunge, 
taking  the  startled  Major  by  surprise,  and  the  next 
instant  found  himself  free.  He  did  not  remain  upon 
the  scene,  or  he  would  have  beheld  the  terrified  negro 
get  upon  his  feet,  run  round  in  a  frenzy  of  terror,  and 
close  his  last  circle  at  the  foot  of  the  bush,  up  which 
he  scurried  again  like  a  squirrel,  old  as  he  was.  The 
Major  lay  flat  upon  bis  back,  after  trying  in  vain  to 
rise.  Then  the  reaction  came.  He  fixed  his  eye  upon 
the  negro  above  and  laughed  until  the  tears  washed 
the  dirt  from  his  face ;  and  Isam,  holding  his  head  up 
so  that  his  vision  could  encompass  the  narrow  hori 
zon,  said  slowly  and  impressively : 

"  Mass'  Craffud,  ef  de  Lord  had  n't  'sist'd  on  Isum 
cum'n'  down  ter  run  dat  deer  off,  'spec'  by  dis  time 
you  'd  been  er-flopp'n'  yo'  wings  up  yander,  er  else 


TWO  RUNAWAYS.  31 

sput'ii'  on  er  grindi'on  down  yander."  And  from  his 
elevated  perch  Isam  indicated  the  two  extremes  of 
eternity  with  an  eloquent  sweep  of  his  hand. 

But  the  Major  had  small  time  for  laughter  or  re 
crimination.  In  the  distance  there  rang  out  faintly 
the  full-mouthed  cry  of  a  hound.  Isam  heard  it.  For 
him  it  was  at  once  a  welcome  and  a  stimulating  sound. 
Gliding  to  the  ground,  he  helped  the  wearied  Major 
to  his  feet,  and  started  on  the  run  for  the  boat,  cry 
ing: 

"  Run,  Mass7  Craffud !  wors'  'n  er  deer  's  cummin'. 
Hit 's  dem  folks  w'at  know  about  dat  corn  en'  water- 
milluns,  en'  yer  can't  'splain  nuthin'  ter  er  houn'  dog." 

Broken  down  as  he  was,  the  Major  realized  that 
there  was  wisdom  in  the  negro's  words,  and  followed 
as  best  he  could.  The  camp  traps  were  thrown  into 
the  boat,  and  the  little  bark  was  launched.  A 
minute  later  the  form  of  a  great  thirsty-looking 
hound,  the  runaways'  bete  noire,  appeared  on  the 
scene.  But  the  hunters  who  came  after  found  naught 
beyond  the  signs  of  a  camp,  if  they  found  anything, 
and  soon  followed  the  hound,  which  had  regained  the 
trail  of  the  buck,  and  yelping  passed  into  the  dis 
tance.  The  boat  had  long  since  passed  the  bend. 

How  Isam  ever  settled  his  difficulty  needs  no  ex 
planation.  But  it  may  interest  the  reader  to  know 
that  one  day  he  bore  a  message  and  a  check  that  set 
tled  the  corn  and  melon  debt ;  and  they  tell  it  in  mid- 


32  TWO  RUNAWAYS. 

die  Georgia  that  every  year  thereafter,  until  the  war- 
cloud  broke  over  the  land,  whenever  the  catalpa  worm 
crept  upon  the  leaf  two  runaways  fled  from  Wood- 
haven  and  dwelt  in  the  swamps,  "  loos'  en  free." 


ELDEE  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE. 
I. 


LDER  BROWN  told  his  wife  good-by 
at  the  farm-house  door  as  mechanically 
as  though  his  proposed  trip  to  Macon, 
ten  miles  away,  was  an  every-day  affair, 
while  as  a  matter  of  fact  many  years 
had  elapsed  since  unaccompanied  he  set  foot  in  the 
city.  He  did  not  kiss  her.  Many  very  good  men 
never  kiss  their  wives.  But  small  blame  attaches  to 
the  elder  for  his  omission  on  this  occasion,  since  his 
wife  had  long  ago  discouraged  all  amorous  demon 
strations  on  the  part  of  her  liege  lord,  and  at  this  par 
ticular  moment  was  filling  the  parting  moments  with 
a  rattling  list  of  directions  concerning  thread,  but 
tons,  hooks,  needles,  and  all  the  many  etceteras  of  an 
industrious  housewife's  basket.  The  elder  was  labori 
ously  assorting  these  postscript  commissions  in  his 
memory,  well  knowing  that  to  return  with  any  one 
of  them  neglected  would  cause  trouble  in  the  family 
circle. 

He  mounted  his  patient  steed  that  stood  sleepily 
motionless  in   the  warm    sunlight,   with   his   great 


34  ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE. 

pointed  ears  displayed  to  the  right  and  left,  as 
though  their  owner  had  grown  tired  of  the  life 
burden  their  weight  inflicted  upon  him,  and  was, 
old  soldier  fashion,  ready  to  forego  the  once  rigid 
alertness  of  early  training  for  the  pleasures  of  fre 
quent  rest  on  arms. 

"  And,  Elder,  don't  you  forgit  them  caliker  scraps, 
or  you  '11  be  wantin'  kiver  soon  an'  no  kiver  will  be  a- 
cominV 

Elder  Brown  did  not  turn  his  head,  but  merely  let 
the  whip  hand,  which  had  been  checked  in  its  back 
ward  motion,  fall  as  he  answered  mechanically.  The 
beast  he  bestrode  responded  with  a  rapid  whisking 
of  its  tail  and  a  great  show  of  effort,  as  it  ambled  off 
down  the  sandy  road,  the  rider's  long  legs  seeming 
now  and  then  to  touch  the  ground. 

But  as  the  zigzag  panels  of  the  rail  fence  crept  be 
hind  him,  and  he  felt  the  freedom  of  the  morning 
beginning  to  act  upon  his  well-trained  blood,  the 
mechanical  manner  of  the  old  man's  mind  gave  place 
to  a  mild  exuberance.  A  weight  seemed  to  be  lifting 
from  it  ounce  by  ounce  as  the  fence  panels,  the  weedy 
corners,  the  persimmon  sprouts,  and  sassafras  bushes 
crept  away  behind  him,  so  that  by  the  time  a  mile  lay 
between  him  and  the  life  partner  of  his  joys  and  sor 
rows  he  was  in  a  reasonably  contented  frame  of  mind, 
and  still  improving. 

It  was  a  queer  figure  that  crept  along  the  road  that 


ELDER  EBOWN'S  BACKSLIDE.  35 

cheery  May  morning.  It  was  tall  and  gaunt,  and  had 
been  for  thirty  years  or  more.  The  long  head,  bald 
on  top,  covered  behind  with  iron-gray  hair,  and  in 
front  with  a  short  tangled  growth  that  curled  and 
kinked  in  every  direction,  was  surmounted  by  an  old- 
fashioned  stove-pipe  hat,  worn  and  stained,  but  emi 
nently  impressive.  An  old-fashioned  Henry  Clay 
cloth  coat,  stained  and  threadbare,  divided  itself  im 
partially  over  the  donkey's  back  and  dangled  on  his 
sides.  This  was  all  that  remained  of  the  elder's  wed 
ding  suit  of  forty  years  ago.  Only  constant  care, 
and  use  of  late  years  limited  to  extra  occasions,  had 
preserved  it  so  long.  The  trousers  had  soon  parted 
company  with  their  friends.  The  substitutes  were 
red  jeans,  which,  while  they  did  not  well  match  his 
court  costume,  were  better  able  to  withstand  the  old 
man's  abuse,  for  if,  in  addition  to  his  frequent  relig 
ious  excursions  astride  his  beast,  there  ever  was  a 
man  who  was  fond  of  sitting  down  with  his  feet 
higher  than  his  head,  it  was  this  self-same  Elder 
Brown. 

The  morning  expanded,  and  the  old  man  expanded 
with  it ;  for,  while  a  vigorous  leader  in  his  church, 
the  elder  at  home  was,  it  must  be  admitted,  an  un 
complaining  slave.  To  the  intense  astonishment  of 
the  beast  he  rode,  there  came  new  vigor  into  the 
whacks  which  fell  upon  his  flanks ;  and  the  beast  al 
lowed  astonishment  to  surprise  him  into  real  life  and 


36  ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE. 

decided  motion.  Somewhere  in  the  elder's  expanding 
soul  a  tune  had  begun  to  ring.  Possibly  he  took  up  th( 
far  faint  tune  that  came  from  the  straggling  gang  o1 
negroes  away  off  in  the  field,  as  they  slowly  choppec 
amid  the  thread-like  rows  of  cotton  plants  which  linec 
the  level  ground,  for  the  melody  he  hummed  softl) 
and  then  sang  strongly,  in  the  quavering,  catch  j 
tones  of  a  good  old  country  churchman,  was,  "  I  'm 
glad  salvation  's  free." 

It  was  during  the  singing  of  this  hymn  that  Eldei 
Brown's  regular  motion- inspiring  strokes  were  foi 
the  first  time  varied.  He  began  to  hold  his  hickorj 
up  at  certain  pauses  in  the  melody,  and  beat  the 
changes  upon  the  sides  of  his  astonished  steed.  Tht 
chorus  under  this  arrangement  was, 

"  I  'm  glad  salvation  'sfree, 
I  'm  glad  salvation  's  free, 
I  'm  glad  salvation  's  free  for  all, 
I  'm  glad  salvation  'sfrce." 

Wherever  there  is  an  italic,  the  hickory  descended, 
It  fell  about  as  regularly  and  after  the  fashion  of  the 
stick  beating  upon  the  bass  drum  during  a  funeral 
march.  But  the  beast,  although  convinced  thai 
something  serious  was  impending,  did  not  consider  a 
funeral  march  appropriate  for  the  occasion.  He  pro 
tested,  at  first,  with  vigorous  whiskings  of  his  tail 
and  a  rapid  shifting  of  his  ears.  Finding  these  dem 
onstrations  unavailing,  and  convinced  that  some  ur- 


ELDER  BEOWN'S  BACKSLIDE.  37 

gent  cause  for  hurry  had  suddenly  invaded  the  elder's 
serenity  as  it  had  his  own,  he  began  to  cover  the 
ground  with  frantic  leaps  that  would  have  surprised 
his  owner  could  he  have  realized  what  was  going  on. 
But  Elder  Brown's  eyes  were  half  closed,  and  he  was 
singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  Lost  in  a  trance  of 
divine  exaltation,  for  he  felt  the  effects  of  the  invig 
orating  motion,  bent  only  on  making  the  air  ring  with 
the  lines  which  he  dimly  imagined  were  drawing  upon 
him  the  eyes  of  the  whole  female  congregation,  he 
was  supremely  unconscious  that  his  beast  was  hurry 
ing.  And  thus  the  excursion  proceeded,  until  sud 
denly  a  shote,  surprised  in  his  calm  search  for  roots 
in  a  fence  corner,  darted  into  the  road,  and  stood  for 
an  instant  gazing  upon  the  new-comers  with  that 
idiotic  stare  which  only  a  pig  can  imitate.  The  sud 
den  appearance  of  this  unlooked-for  apparition  acted 
strongly  upon  the  donkey.  "With  one  supreme  effort 
he  collected  himself  into  a  motionless  mass  of  matter, 
'bracing  his  front  legs  wide  apart;  that  is  to  say,  he 
stopped  short.  There  he  stood,  returning  the  pig's 
idiotic  stare  with  an  interest  which  must  have  led  to 
the  presumption  that  never  before  in  all  his  varied 
life  had  he  seen  such  a  singular  little  creature.  End 
over  end  went  the  man  of  prayer,  finally  bringing  up 
full  length  in  the  sand,  striking  just  as  he  should 
have  shouted  "  free "  for  the  fourth  time  in  his  glo 
rious  chorus. 


38  ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE. 

Fully  convinced  that  his  alarm  had  been  well 
founded,  the  shote  sped  out  from  under  the  gigantic 
missile  hurled  at  him  by  the  donkey,  and  scampered 
down  the  road,  turning  first  one  ear  and  then  the 
other  to  detect  any  sounds  of  pursuit.  The  donkey, 
also  convinced  that  the  object  before  which  he  had 
halted  was  supernatural,  started  back  violently  upon 
seeing  it  apparently  turn  to  a  man.  But  seeing  that 
it  had  turned  to  nothing  but  a  man,  he  wandered  up 
into  the  deserted  fence  corner,  and  began  to  nibble 
refreshment  from  a  scrub  oak. 

For  a  moment  the  elder  gazed  up  into  the  sky,  half 
impressed  with  the  idea  that  the  camp-meeting  plat 
form  had  given  way.  But  the  truth  forced  its  way  to 
the  front  in  his  disordered  understanding  at  last,  and 
with  painful  dignity  he  staggered  into  an  upright 
position,  and  regained  his  beaver.  He  was  shocked 
again.  Never  before  in  all  the  long  years  it  had 
served  him  had  he  seen  it  in  such  shape.  The 
truth  is,  Elder  Brown  had  never  before  tried  to  stand 
on  his  head  in  it.  As  calmly  as  possible  he  began  to 
straighten  it  out,  caring  but  little  for  the  dust  upon 
his  garments.  The  beaver  was  his  special  crown  of 
dignity.  To  lose  it  was  to  be  reduced  to  a  level  with 
the  common  wool-hat  herd.  He  did  his  best,  pulling, 
pressing,  and  pushing,  but  the  hat  did  not  look  nat 
ural  when  he  had  finished.  It  seemed  to  have  been 
laid  off  into  counties,  sections,  and  town-lots.  Like 


ELDER   BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE.  39 

a  well-cut  jewel,  it  had  a  face  for  him,  view  it  from 
whatever  point  he  chose,  a  quality  which  so  impressed 
him  that  a  lump  gathered  in  his  throat,  and  his  eyes 
winked  vigorously. 

Elder  Brown  was  not,  however,  a  man  for  tears. 
He  was  a  man  of  action.  The  sudden  vision  which 
met  his  wandering  gaze,  the  donkey  calmly  chewing 
scrub  buds,  with  the  green  juice  already  oozing  from 
the  corners  of  his  frothy  mouth,  acted  upon  him  like 
magic.  He  was,  after  all,  only  human,  and  when  he 
got  hands  upon  a  piece  of  brush,  he  thrashed  the 
poor  beast  until  it  seemed  as  though  even  its  already 
half-tanned  hide  would  be  eternally  ruined.  Thor 
oughly  exhausted  at  last,  he  wearily  straddled  his 
saddle,  and  with  his  chin  upon  his  breast  resumed  the 
early  morning  tenor  of  his  way. 


II. 

"  GOOD-MORNIN',  sir." 

Elder  Brown  leaned  over  the  little  pine  picket 
which  divided  the  book-keepers'  department  of  a 
Macon  warehouse  from  the  room  in  general,  and  sur 
veyed  the  well-dressed  back  of  a  gentleman  who  was 
busily  figuring  at  a  desk  within.  The  apartment  was 
carpetless,  and  the  dust  of  a  decade  lay  deep  on  the 
old  books,  shelves,  and  the  familiar  advertisements  of 
guano  and  fertilizers  which  decorated  the  room.  An 
old  stove,  rusty  with  the  nicotine  contributed  by 
farmers  during  the  previous  season  while  waiting  by 
its  glowing  sides  for  their  cotton  to  be  sold,  stood 
straight  up  in  a  bed  of  sand,  and  festoons  of  cobwebs 
clung  to  the  upper  sashes  of  the  murky  windows. 
The  lower  sash  of  one  window  had  been  raised,  and 
in  the  yard  without,  nearly  an  acre  in  extent,  lay  a 
few  bales  of  cotton,  with  jagged  holes  in  their  ends, 
just  as  the  sampler  had  left  them.  Elder  Brown  had 
time  to  notice  all  these  familiar  points,  for  the  figure 
at  the  desk  kept  serenely  at  its  task,  and  deigned  no 
reply. 

"  Good-mornin',  sir,"  said  Elder  Brown  again,  in  his 
most  dignified  tones.  "  Is  Mr.  Thomas  in  ? " 

40 


ELDER  VEOWN'S  BACKSLIDE.  41 

"  Good-morning,  sir,"  said  the  figure.  "  I  '11  wait 
on  you  in  a  minute."  The  minute  passed,  and  four 
more  joined  it.  Then  the  desk  man  turned. 

"  Well,  sir,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

The  elder  was  not  in  the  best  of  humor  when  he  ar 
rived,  and  his  state  of  mind  had  not  improved.  He 
waited  full  a  minute  as  he  surveyed  the  man  of  busi 
ness. 

"  I  thought  I  mout  be  able  to  make  some  arrange 
ments  with  you  to  git  some  money,  but  I  reckon  I 
was  mistaken."  The  warehouseman  came  nearer. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Brown,  I  believe.  I  did  not  recognize 
you  at  once.  Yoii  are  not  in  often  to  see  us." 

"  No ;  my  wife  usually  'tends  to  the  town  bizness, 
while  I  run  the  church  and  farm.  Got  a  fall  from  my 
donkey  this  morning,"  he  said,  noticing  a  quizzical, 
interrogating  look  upon  the  face  before  him,  "  and 
fell  squar'  on  the  hat."  He  made  a  pretense  of  smooth 
ing  it.  The  man  of  business  had  already  lost  interest. 

"  How  much  money  will  you  want,  Mr.  Brown  ? " 

"Well,  about  seven  hundred  dollars,"  said  the 
elder,  replacing  his  hat,  and  turning  a  furtive  look 
upon  the  warehouseman.  The  other  was  tapping 
with  his  pencil  upon  the  little  shelf  lying  across  the 
rail. 

"  I  can  get  you  five  hundred." 

"But  I  oughter  have  seven." 

"  Can't  arrange  for  that  amount.    Wait  till  later  in 


42  ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE. 

the  season,  and  come  again.  Money  is  very  tight 
now.  How  much  cotton  will  you  raise  *? " 

"  Well,  I  count  on  a  hundr'd  bales.  An'  you  can't 
git  the  sev'n  hundr'd  dollars  ?  " 

"Like  to  oblige  you,  but  can't  right  now ;  will  fix  it 
for  you  later  on." 

"  Well,"  said  the  elder,  slowly,  "  fix  up  the  papers 
for  five,  an'  I  '11  make  it  go  as  far  as  possible." 

The  papers  were  drawn.  A  note  was  made  out  for 
$552.50,  for  the  interest  was  at  one  and  a  half  per 
cent,  for  seven  months,  and  a  mortgage  on  ten  mules 
belonging  to  the  elder  was  drawn  and  signed.  The 
elder  then  promised  to  send  his  cotton  to  the  ware 
house  to  be  sold  in  the  fall,  and  with  a  curt  "Anything 
else  ?  "  and  a  "  Thankee,  that 's  all,"  the  two  parted. 

Elder  Brown  now  made  an  effort  to  recall  the  sup 
plemental  commissions  shouted  to  him  upon  his  de 
parture,  intending  to  execute  them  first,  and  then 
take  his  written  list  item  by  item.  His  mental  resolves 
had  just  reached  this  point  when  a  new  thought  made 
itself  known.  Passers-by  were  puzzled  to  see  the  old 
man  suddenly  snatch  his  head-piece  off  and  peer  with 
an  intent  and  awe-struck  air  into  its  irregular  cav 
ern.  Some  of  them  were  shocked  when  he  suddenly 
and  vigorously  ejaculated, 

"  Hannah-Maria- Jemimy !  goldarn  an'  blue  blazes  !" 

He  had  suddenly  remembered  having  placed  his 
memoranda  in  that  hat,  and  as  he  studied  its  empty 


ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE.  43 

depths  his  mind  pictured  the  important  scrap  flutter 
ing  along  the  sandy  scene  of  his  early-morning  tum 
ble.  It  was  this  that  caused  him  to  graze  an  oath 
with  less  margin  than  he  had  allowed  himself  in 
twenty  years.  What  would  the  old  lady  say  ? 

Alas !  Elder  Brown  knew  too  well.  What  she 
would  not  say  was  what  puzzled  him.  But  as  he 
stood  bare-headed  in  the  sunlight  a  sense  of  utter 
desolation  came  and  dwelt  with  him.  His  eye  rested 
upon  sleeping  Balaam  anchored  to  a  post  in  the  street, 
and  so,  as  he  recalled  the  treachery  that  lay  at  the 
base  of  all  his  affliction,  gloom  was  added  to  the  deso 
lation. 

To  turn  back  and  search  for  the  lost  paper  would 
have  been  worse  than  useless.  Only  one  course  was 
open  to  him,  and  at  it  went  the  leader  of  his  people. 
He  called  at  the  grocery  ;  he  invaded  the  recesses  of 
the  dry-goods  establishments  ;  he  ransacked  the  hard 
ware  stores;  and  wherever  he  went  he  made  life  a 
burden  for  the  clerks,  overhauling  show-cases  and 
pulling  down  whole  shelves  of  stock.  Occasionally 
an  item  of  his  memoranda  would  come  to  light,  and 
thrusting  his  hand  into  his  capacious  pocket,  where 
lay  the  proceeds  of  his  check,  he  would  pay  for  it  on 
the  spot,  and  insist  on  having  it  rolled  up.  To  the 
suggestion  of  the  slave  whom  he  had  in  charge  for 
the  time  being,  that  the  articles  be  laid  aside  until  he 
had  finished,  he  would  not  listen. 


44  ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE. 

"  Now  you  look  here,  sonny/'  he  said,  in  the  dry- 
goods  store ;  "  I  'm  conducting  this  revival,  an'  I  don't 
need  no  help  in  my  line.  Just  you  tie  them  stockin's 
up  an7  lemme  have  'em.  Then  I  know  I  've  got  'em." 
As  each  purchase  was  promptly  paid  for,  and  change 
had  to  be  secured,  the  clerk  earned  his  salary  for  that 
day  at  least. 

So  it  was  when,  near  the  heat  of  the  day,  the  good 
man  arrived  at  the  drug-store,  the  last  and  only  un- 
visited  division  of  trade,  he  made  his  appearance 
equipped  with  half  a  hundred  packages,  which  nes 
tled  in  his  arms  and  bulged  out  about  the  sections  of 
his  clothing  that  boasted  of  pockets.  As  he  deposited 
his  deck-load  upon  the  counter,  great  drops  of  per 
spiration  rolled  down  his  face  and  over  his  water 
logged  collar  to  the  floor. 

There  was  a  something  exquisitely  refreshing  in  the 
great  glasses  of  foaming  soda  that  a  spruce  young 
man  was  drawing  from  a  marble  fountain,  above 
which  half  a  dozen  polar  bears  in  an  ambitious  print 
were  disporting  themselves.  There  came  a  break  in 
the  run  of  customers,  and  the  spruce  young  man, 
having  swept  the  foam  from  the  marble,  dexterously 
lifted  a  glass  from  the  revolving  rack  which  had  rinsed 
it  with  a  fierce  little  stream  of  water,  and  asked  me 
chanically,  as  he  caught  the  intense  look  of  the  per 
spiring  elder,  "  What  schrup,  sir  ? " 

Now  it  had  not  occurred  to  the  elder  to  drink  soda, 


ELDER  BEOWN'S  BACKSLIDE.  45 

but  the  suggestion,  coming  as  it  did  in  his  exhausted 
state,  was  overpowering.  He  drew  near  awkwardly, 
put  on  his  glasses,  and  examined  the  list  of  syrups 
with  great  care.  The  young  man,  being  for  the 
moment  at  leisure,  surveyed  critically  the  gaunt  fig 
ure,  the  faded  bandana,  the  antique  claw-hammer 
coat,  and  the  battered  stove-pipe  hat,  with  a  gradually 
relaxing  countenance.  He  even  called  the  prescrip 
tion  clerk's  attention  by  a  cough  and  a  quick  jerk  of 
the  thumb.  The  prescription  clerk  smiled  feebly,  and 
continued  his  assaults  upon  a  piece  of  blue  mass. 

"I  reckon,"  said  the  elder,  resting  his  hands  upon 
his  knees  and  bending  down  to  the  list,  "you  may 
gimme  sassprilla  an'  a  little  strawberry.  Sassprilla  's 
good  for  the  blood  this  time  er  year,  an'  strawberry  's 
good  any  time." 

The  spruce  young  man  let  the  syrup  stream  into 
the  glass  as  he  smiled  affably.  Thinking,  perhaps,  to 
draw  out  the  odd  character,  he  ventured  upon  a  jest 
himself,  repeating  a  pun  invented  by  the  man  who 
made  the  first  soda  fountain.  With  a  sweep  of  his 
arm  he  cleared  away  the  swarm  of  insects  as  he  re 
marked,  "  People  who  like  a  fly  in  theirs  are  easily 
accommodated." 

It  was  from  sheer  good-nature  only  that  Elder 
Brown  replied,  with  his  usual  broad  social  smile, 
"  Well,  a  fly  now  an'  then  don't  hurt  nobody." 

Now  if  there  is  anybody  in  the  world  who  prides 


46  ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE. 

himself  on  knowing  a  thing  or  two,  it  is  the  spruce 
young  man  who  presides  over  a  soda  fountain.  This 
particular  young  gentleman  did  not  even  deem  a  reply 
necessary.  He  vanished  an  instant,  and  when  he  re 
turned  a  close  observer  might  have  seen  that  the  mix 
ture  in  the  glass  he  bore  had  slightly  changed  color 
and  increased  in  quantity.  But  the  elder  saw  only 
the  whizzing  stream  of  water  dart  into  its  center,  and 
the  rosy  foam  rise  and  tremble  on  the  glass's  rim. 
The  next  instant  he  was  holding  his  breath  and  sip 
ping  the  cooling  drink. 

As  Elder  Brown  paid  his  small  score  he  was  at  peace 
with  the  world.  I  firmly  believe  that  when  he  had 
finished  his  trading,  and  the  little  blue-stringed  pack 
ages  had  been  stored  away,  could  the  poor  donkey 
have  made  his  appearance  at  the  door,  and  gazed  with 
his  meek,  fawn-like  eyes  into  his  master's,  he  would 
have  obtained  full  and  free  forgiveness. 

Elder  Brown  paused  at  the  door  as  he  was  about  to 
leave.  A  rosy-cheeked  school-girl  was  just  lifting  a 
creamy  mixture  to  her  lips  before  the  fountain.  It 
was  a  pretty  picture,  and  he  turned  back,  resolved  to 
indulge  in  one  more  glass  of  the  delightful  beverage 
before  beginning  his  long  ride  homeward. 

"Fix  it  up  again,  sonny,"  he  said,  renewing  his 
broad,  confiding  smile,  as  the  spruce  young  man 
poised  a  glass  inquiringly.  The  living  automaton 
went  through  the  same  motions  as  before,  and  again 
Elder  Brown  quaffed  the  fatal  mixture. 


ELDER  BROWN1  S  BACKSLIDE.  47 

What  a  singular  power  is  habit !  Up  to  this  time 
Elder  Brown  had  been  entirely  innocent  of  transgres 
sion,  but,  with  the  old  alcoholic  fire  in  his  veins, 
twenty  years  dropped  from  his  shoulders,  and  a  feel 
ing  came  over  him  familiar  to  every  man  who  has 
been  "  in  his  cups."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  elder 
would  have  been  a  confirmed  drunkard  twenty  years 
before  had  his  wife  been  less  strong-minded.  She 
took  the  reins  into  her  own  hands  when  she  found 
that  his  business  and  strong  drink  did  not  mix  well, 
worked  him  into  the  church,  and  sustained  his  reso 
lutions  by  making  it  difficult  and  dangerous  for  him 
to  get  to  his  toddy.  She  became  the  business  head 
of  the  family,  and  he  the  spiritual.  Only  at  rare 
intervals  did  he  ever  "  backslide  "  during  the  twenty 
years  of  the  new  era,  and  Mrs.  Brown  herself  used 
to  say  that  the  "sugar  in  his'n  turned  to  gall  before 
the  backslide  ended."  People  who  knew  her  never 
doubted  it. 

But  Elder  Brown's  sin  during  the  remainder  of  the 
day  contained  an  element  of  responsibility.  As  he 
moved  majestically  down  toward  where  Balaam  slept 
in  the  sunlight  he  felt  no  fatigue.  There  was  a  glow 
upon  his  cheek-bones,  and  a  faint  tinge  upon  his 
prominent  nose.  He  nodded  familiarly  to  people  as 
he  met  them,  and  saw  not  the  look  of  amusement 
which  succeeded  astonishment  upon  the  various  faces. 
When  he  reached  the  neighborhood  of  Balaam  it  sud 
denly  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  have  forgotten 


48  ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE. 

some  one  of  his  numerous  commissions,  and  he  paused 
to  think.  Then  a  brilliant  idea  rose  in  his  mind.  He 
would  forestall  blame  and  disarm  anger  with  kind 
ness  — he  would  purchase  Hannah  a  bonnet. 

What  woman's  heart  ever  failed  to  soften  at  sight 
of  a  new  bonnet  ? 

As  I  have  stated,  the  elder  was  a  man  of  action. 
He  entered  a  store  near  at  hand. 

"  Good-morning,"  said  an  affable  gentleman  with  a 
Hebrew  countenance,  approaching. 

"  Good-mornin',    good-mornin', "    said    the    elder, 

K 
piling  his  bundles  on  the   counter.      "I  hope  you 

are  well  ?  "    Elder  Brown  extended  his  hand  fervidly. 

"  Quite  weH,  I  thank  you.     What » 

"  And  the  little  wife  ? "  said  Elder  Brown,  affection 
ately  retaining  the  Jew's  hand. 

"  Quite  well,  sir." 

"  And  the  little  ones  —  quite  well,  I  hope,  too  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  all  well,  thank  you.  Something  I  can 
do  for  you  ?  " 

The  affable  merchant  was  trying  to  recall  his  cus 
tomer's  name. 

"Not  now,  not  now,  thankee.  If  you  please  to  let 
my  bundle  stay  untell  I  come  back " 

"  Can't  I  show  you  something?    Hat,  coat " 

"  Not  now.     Be  back  bimeby." 

Was  it  chance  or  fate  that  brought  Elder  Brown  in 
front  of  a  bar?  The  glasses  shone  bright  upon  the 


ELDER   BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE.  49 

shelves  as  the  swinging  door  flapped  back  to  let  out  a 
coatless  clerk,  who  passed  him  with  a  rush,  chewing 
upon  a  farewell  mouthful  of  brown-bread  and  bo 
logna.  Elder  Brown  beheld  for  an  instant  the  famil 
iar  scene  within.  The  screws  of  his  resolution  had 
been  loosened.  At  sight  of  the  glistening  bar  the 
whole  moral  structure  of  twenty  years  came  tumbling 
down.  Mechanically  he  entered  the  saloon,  and  laid 
a  silver  quarter  down  as  he  said : 

"  A  little  whisky  an'  sugar."  The  arms  of  the  bar 
tender  worked  like  a  fakir's  in  a  side-show  as  he  set 
out  the  glass  with  its  little  quota  of  "  short  sweeten 
ing"  and  a  cut-glass  decanter,  and  sent  a  half -tum 
bler  of  water  spinning  along  from  the  upper  end  of 
the  bar  with  a  dime  in  change. 

"  Whisky  is  higher  'n  it  used  to  be,"  said  Elder 
Brown  ;  but  the  bartender  was  taking  another  order, 
and  did  not  hear  him.  Elder  Brown  stirred  away  the 
sugar,  and  let  a  steady  stream  of  red  liquid  flow  into 
the  glass.  He  swallowed  the  drink  as  unconcernedly 
as  though  his  morning  tod  had  never  been  suspended, 
and  pocketed  the  change.  "  But  it  ain't  any  better 
than  it  was/'  he  concluded,  as  he  passed  out.  He  did 
not  even  seem  to  realize  that  he  had  done  anything 
extraordinary. 

There  was  a  millinery  store  up  the  street,  and 
thither  with  uncertain  step  he  wended  his  way,  feel 
ing  a  little  more  elate,  and  altogether  sociable.  A 


50  ELDER  BROU'X'S  BACKSLIDE. 

pretty,  black-eyed  girl,  struggling  to  keep  down  her 
mirth,  came  forward  and  faced  him  behind  the 
counter.  Elder  Brown  lifted  his  faded  hat  with  the 
politeness,  if  not  the  grace,  of  a  Castilian,  and  made 
a  sweeping  bow.  Again  he  was  in  his  element.  But 
he  did  not  speak.  A  shower  of  odds  and  ends,  small 
packages,  thread,  needles,  and  buttons,  released  from 
their  prison,  rattled  down  about  him. 

The  girl  laughed.  She  could  not  help  it.  And  the 
elder,  leaning  his  hand  on  the  counter,  laughed  too, 
until  several  other  girls  came  half-way  to  the  front. 
Then  they,  hiding  behind  counters  and  suspended 
cloaks,  laughed  and  snickered  until  they  re-convulsed 
the  elder's  vis-d-vis,  who  had  been  making  desperate 
efforts  to  resume  her  demure  appearance. 

u  Let  me  help  you,  sir,"  she  said,  coming  from  be 
hind  the  counter,  upon  seeing  Elder  Brown  beginning 
to  adjust  his  spectacles  for  a  search.  He  waved  her 
back  majestically.  "  No,  my  dear,  no ;  can't  allow  it. 
You  mout  sile  them  purty  fingers.  No,  ma'am.  No 
gen'l'man  '11  'low  er  lady  to  do  such  a  thing."  The 
elder  was  gently  forcing  the  girl  back  to  her  place. 
"  Leave  it  to  me.  I  've  picked  up  bigger  things  'n 
them.  Picked  myself  up  this  monrin'.  Balaam  — 
you  don't  know  Balaam  ;  he  's  my  donkey — he  tum 
bled  me  over  his  head  in  the  sand  this  mornin'."  And 
Elder  Brown  had  to  resume  an  upright  position  until 
his  paroxysm  of  laughter  had  passed.  "  You  see  this 


ELDER   BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE.  5] 

old  hat  ? "  extending  it,  half  full  of  packages ;  "  I  fell 
clear  inter  it;  jes'  as  clean  inter  it  as  them  things 
thar  fell  out'n  it."  He  laughed  again,  and  so  did  the 
girls.  "  But,  my  dear,  I  whaled  half  the  hide  off'n 
him  for  it." 

"  Oh,  sir !  how  could  you  ?  Indeed,  sir,  I  think  you 
did  wrong.  The  poor  brute  did  not  know  what  he 
was  doing,  I  dare  say,  and  probably  he  has  been  a 
faithful  friend."  The  girl  cast  her  mischievous  eyes 
toward  her  companions,  who  snickered  again.  The 
old  man  was  not  conscious  of  the  sarcasm.  He  only 
saw  reproach.  His  face  straightened,  and  he  re 
garded  the  girl  soberly. 

"  Mebbe  you  're  right,  my  dear ;  mebbe  I  ought  n't." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  said  the  girl.  "  But  now  don't 
you  want  to  buy  a  bonnet  or  a  cloak  to  carry  home 
to  your  wife  ? " 

"  Well,  you  're  whistlin'  now,  birdie ;  that  's  my 
intention;  set  'em  all  out."  Again  the  elder's  face 
shone  with  delight.  "An' I  don't  want  no  one-hoss 
bonnet  neither." 

"  Of  course  not.  Now  here  is  one ;  pink  silk,  with 
delicate  pale  blue  feathers.  Just  the  thing  for  the 
season.  We  have  nothing  more  elegant  in  stock." 
Elder  Brown  held  it  out,  upside  down,  at  arm's 
length. 

"  Well,  now,  that  's  suthin'  like.  Will  it  soot  a 
sorter  red-headed  'ooman  ?  " 


52  ELDER   BROWS 'S  BACKSLIDE. 

A  perfectly  sober  man  would  have  said  the  girl's 
corsets  must  have  undergone  a  terrible  strain,  but 
the  elder  did  not  notice  her  dumb  convulsion.  She 
answered  heroically: 

"  Perfectly,  sir.     It  is  an  exquisite  match." 

"  I  think  you  're  whistlin'  again.  Nancy's  head  's 
red,  red  as  a  woodpeck's.  Sorrel  's  only  half-way  to 
the  color  of  her  top-knot,  an'  it  do  seem  like  red 
oughter  soot  red.  Nancy  's  red  an'  the  hat 's  red ; 
like  goes  with  like,  an'  birds  of  a  feather  flock  to 
gether."  The  old  man  laughed  until  his  cheeks  were 
wet. 

The  girl,  beginning  to  feel  a  little  uneasy,  and  see 
ing  a  customer  entering,  rapidly  fixed  up  the  bonnet, 
took  fifteen  dollars  out  of  a  twenty-dollar  bill,  and 
calmly  asked  the  elder  if  he  wanted  anything,  else. 
He  thrust  his  change  somewhere  into  his  clothes,  and 
beat  a  retreat.  It  had  occurred  to  him  that  he  was 
nearly  drunk. 

Elder  Brown's  step  began  to  lose  its  buoyancy.  He 
found  himself  utterly  unable  to  walk  straight.  There 
was  an  uncertain  straddle  in  his  gait  that  carried  him 
from  one  side  of  the  walk  to  the  other,  and  caused 
people  whom  he  met  to  cheerfully  yield  him  plenty  of 
room. 

Balaam  saw  him  coming.  Poor  Balaam.  He  had 
made  an  early  start  that  day,  and  for  hours  he  stood 
in  the  sun  awaiting  relief.  When  he  opened  his 
sleepy  eyes  and  raised  his  expressive  ears  to  a  position 


ELDER   BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE.  53 

of  attention,  the  old  familiar  coat  and  battered  hat  of 
the  elder  were  before  him.  He  lifted  up  his  honest 
voice  and  cried  aloud  for  joy. 

The  effect  was  electrical.  For  one  instant  Elder 
Brown  surveyed  the  beast  with  horror,  but  again  in 
his  understanding  there  rang  out  the  trumpet  words, 

"  Drunk,  drunk,  drunk,  drer-nnc,  -er-unc,  -unc,-unc." 

He  stooped  instinctively  for  a  missile  with  which  to 
smite  his  accuser,  but  brought  up  suddenly  with  a 
jerk  and  a  handful  of  sand.  Straightening  himself 
up  with  a  majestic  dignity,  he  extended  his  right  hand 
impressively. 

"  You  're  a  goldarn  liar,  Balaam,  and,  blast  your 
old  buttons,  you  kin  walk  home  by  yourself,  for  I  'm 
danged  if  you  sh'll  ride  me  er  step." 

Surely  Coriolanus  never  turned  his  back  upon 
Rome  with  a  grander  dignity  than  sat  upon  the  old 
man's  form  as  he  faced  about  and  left  the  brute  to 
survey  with  anxious  eyes  the  new  departure  of  his 
master. 

He  saw  the  elder  zigzag  along  the  street,  and  be 
held  him  about  to  turn  a  friendly  corner.  Once  more 
he  lifted  up  his  mighty  voice. 

"  Drunk,  drunk,  drunk,  drer-unc,  drer-unc,  -er-unc, 
-unc,  -unc." 

Once  more  the  elder  turned  with  lifted  hand,  and 
shouted  back : 

"  You  're  a  liar,  Balaam,  goldarn  you !  You  're  er 
iffamous  liar."  Then  he  passed  from  view. 


III. 

MRS.  BROWN  stood  upon  the  steps  anxiously  await 
ing  the  return  of  her  liege  lord.  She  knew  he  had 
with  him  a  large  sum  of  money,  or  should  have,  and 
she  knew  also  that  he  was  a  man  without  business 
methods.  She  had  long  since  repented  of  the  decision 
which  sent  him  to  town.  When  the  old  battered  hat 
and  flour-covered  coat  loomed  up  in  the  gloaming  and 
confronted  her,  she  started  with  terror.  The  next  in 
stant  she  had  seized  him. 

"  For  the  Lord  sakes,  Elder  Brown,  what  ails  you? 
As  I  live,  if  the  man  ain't  drunk !  Elder  Brown ! 
Elder  Brown  !  for  the  life  of  me  can't  I  make  you 
hear  ?  You  crazy  old  hypocrite !  you  desavin'  old 
sinner!  you  black-hearted  wretch!  where  have  you 
be'n?" 

The  elder  made  an  effort  to  wave  her  off. 

"  Woman,"  he  said,  with  grand  dignity,  "  you  for- 
git  yussef ;  shu  know  ware  I  've  be'n  's  well 's  I  do. 
Be'n  to  town,  wife,  an'  see  yer  w'at  I  've  brought  — 
the  fines'  hat,  ole  woman,  I  could  git.  Look  't  the 
color.  Like  goes  'ith  like ;  it  's  red  an'  you  're  red, 

54 


ELDER  BROWN* 'S  BACKSLIDE.  55 

an'  it 's  a  dead  match.  What  yer  mean  ?  Hey  !  hole 
on,  ole  woman  !  —  you !  Hannah  !  —  you."  She  lit 
erally  shook  him  into  silence. 

"  You  miserable  wretch !  you  low-down  drunken 
sot !  what  do  you  mean  by  coming  home  and  insult 
ing  your  wife?"  Hannah  ceased  shaking  him  from 
pure  exhaustion. 

"  Where  is  it,  I  say  ?  where  is  it  ? " 

By  this  time  she  was  turning  his  pockets  wrong 
side  out.  From  one  she  got  pills,  from  another 
change,  from  another  packages. 

"  The  Lord  be  praised,  and  this  is  better  luck  than 
I  hoped !  Oh,  elder !  elder !  elder  !  what  did  you  do 
it  for  !  Why,  man,  where  is  Balaam  ? " 

Thought  of  the  beast  choked  off  the  threatened 
hysterics. 

"  Balaam  ?  Balaam  ? "  said  the  elder,  groggily. 
"  He  's  in  town.  The  infernal  ole  fool  'suited  me,  an' 
I  lef  him  to  walk  home." 

His  wife  surveyed  him.  Really  at  that  moment  she 
did  think  his  mind  was  gone ;  but  the  leer  upon  the 
old  man's  face  enraged  her  beyond  endurance. 

"  You  did,  did  you  ?  Well,  now,  I  reckon  you  '11 
laugh  for  some  cause,  you  will.  Back  you  go,  sir  — 
straight  back ;  an'  don't  you  come  home  'thout  that 
donkey,  or  you  '11  rue  it,  sure  as  my  name  is  Hannah 
Brown.  Aleck !  —  you  Aleck-k-k !  " 

A  black  boy  darted  round  the  corner,  from  behind 


56  ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE. 

which,  with  several  others,  he  had  beheld  the  brief  but 
stirring  scene. 

11  Put  a  saddle  on  er  mule.  The  elder 's  gwine  back 
to  town.  And  don't  you  be  long  about  it  nuther." 

"Yessum."  Aleck's  ivories  gleamed  in  the  dark 
ness  as  he  disappeared. 

Elder  Brown  was  soberer  at  that  moment  than  he 
had  been  for  hours. 

"  Hannah,  you  don't  mean  it  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  do.  Back  you  go  to  town  as  sure  as 
my  name  is  Hannah  Brown." 

The  elder  was  silent.  He  had  never  known  his  wife 
to  relent  on  any  occasion  after  she  had  affirmed  her 
intention,  supplemented  with  "  as  sure  as  my  name  is 
Hannah  Brown."  It  was  her  way  of  swearing.  No 
affidavit  would  have  had  half  the  claim  upon  her  as 
that  simple  enunciation. 

So  back  to  town  went  Elder  Brown,  not  in  the 
order  of  the  early  morn,  but  silently,  moodily,  de 
spairingly,  surrounded  by  mental  and  actual  gloom. 

The  old  man  had  turned  a  last  appealing  glance 
upon  the  angry  woman,  as  he  mounted  with  Aleck's 
assistance,  and  sat  in  the  light  that  streamed  from 
out  the  kitchen  window.  She  met  the  glance  without 
a  waver. 

"  She  means  it,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Elder  Brown," 
he  said  thickly.  Then  he  rode  on. 


IV. 

To  SAY  that  Elder  Brown  suffered  on  this  long 
journey  back  to  Macon  would  only  mildly  outline  his 
experience.  His  early  morning's  fall  had  begun  to 
make  itself  felt.  He  was  sore  and  uncomfortable. 
Besides,  his  stomach  was  empty,  and  called  for  two 
meals  it  had  missed  for  the  first  time  in  years. 

When,  sore  and  weary,  the  elder  entered  the  city, 
the  electric  lights  shone  above  it  like  jewels  in  a  crown. 
The  city  slept ;  that  is,  the  better  portion  of  it  did. 
Here  and  there,  however,  the  lower  lights  flashed  out 
into  the  night.  Moodily  the  elder  pursued  his  jour 
ney,  and  as  he  rode,  far  off  in  the  night  there  rose  and 
quivered  a  plaintive  cry.  Elder  Brown  smiled  wearily ; 
it  was  Balaam's  appeal,  and  he  recognized  it.  The 
animal  he  rode  also  recognized  it,  and  replied,  until 
the  silence  of  the  city  was  destroyed.  The  odd  clamor 
and  confusion  drew  from  a  saloon  near  by  a  group  of 
noisy  youngsters,  who  had  been  making  a  night  of  it. 
They  surrounded  Elder  Brown  as  he  began  to  trans 
fer  himself  to  the  hungry  beast  to  whose  motion  he 
was  more  accustomed,  and  in  the  "  hail  fellow  well 
met "  style  of  the  day  began  to  bandy  jests  upon  his 
appearance.  Now  Elder  Brown  was  not  in  a  jesting 

57 


58  ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE. 

humor.  Positively  he  was  in  the  worst  humor  possi 
ble.  The  result  was  that  before  many  minutes  passed 
the  old  man  was  swinging  several  of  the  crowd  by 
their  collars,  and  breaking  the  peace  of  the  city.  A 
policeman  approached,  and  but  for  the  good-humored 
party,  upon  whom  the  elder's  pluck  had  made  a  favor 
able  impression,  would  have  run  the  old  man  into  the 
barracks.  The  crowd,  however,  drew  him  laughingly 
into  the  saloon  and  to  the  bar.  The  reaction  was  too 
much  for  his  half -rallied  senses.  He  yielded  again. 
The  reviving  liquor  passed  his  lips.  Gloom  vanished. 
He  became  one  of  the  boys. 

The  company  into  which  Elder  Brown  had  fallen 
was  what  is  known  as  "  first-class."  To  such  nothing 
is  so  captivating  as  an  adventure  out  of  the  common 
run  of  accidents.  The  gaunt  countryman,  with  his 
battered  hat  and  claw-hammer  coat,  was  a  prize  of  an 
extraordinary  nature.  They  drew  him  into  a  rear 
room,  whose  gilded  frames  and  polished  tables  be 
trayed  the  character  and  purpose  of  the  place,  and 
plied  him  with  wine  until  ten  thousand  lights  danced 
about  him.  The  fun  increased.  One  youngster  made 
a  political  speech  from  the  top  of  the  table ;  another 
impersonated  Hamlet ;  and  finally  Elder  Brown  was 
lifted  into  a  chair,  and  sang  a  camp-meeting  song. 
This  was  rendered  by  him  with  startling  effect.  He 
stood  upright,  with  his  hat  jauntily  knocked  to  one 
side,  and  his  coat-tails  ornamented  with  a  couple  of 


ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE.  59 

show-bills,  kindly  pinned  on  by  his  admirers.  In  his 
left  hand  he  waved  the  stub  of  a  cigar,  and  on  his 
back  was  an  admirable  representation  of  Balaam's 
head,  executed  by  some  artist  with  billiard  chalk. 

As  the  elder  sang  his  favorite  hymn,  "  I  'm  glad 
salvation  ;s  free,"  his  stentorian  voice  awoke  the 
echoes.  Most  of  the  company  rolled  upon  the  floor 
in  convulsions  of  laughter. 

The  exhibition  came  to  a  close  by  the  chair  over 
turning.  Again  Elder  Brown  fell  into  his  beloved 
hat.  He  arose  and  shouted :  "  Whoa,  Balaam  !  " 
Again  he  seized  the  nearest  weapon,  and  sought  satis 
faction.  The  young  gentleman  with  political  senti 
ments  was  knocked  under  the  table,  and  Hamlet  only 
escaped  injury  by  beating  the  infuriated  elder  into 
the  street. 

"What  next!  Well,  I  hardly  know.  How  the  elder 
found  Balaam  is  a  mystery  yet :  not  that  Balaam  was 
hard  to  find,  but  that  the  old  man  was  in  no  condition 
to  find  anything.  Still  he  did,  and  climbing  labori 
ously  into  the  saddle,  he  held  on  stupidly  while  the 
hungry  beast  struck  out  for  home. 


V. 

HANNAH  BROWN  did  not  sleep  that  night.  Sleep 
would  not  come.  Hour  after  hour  passed,  and  her 
wrath  refused  to  be  quelled.  She  tried  every  con 
ceivable  method,  but  time  hung  heavily.  It  was  not 
quite  peep  of  day,  however,  when  she  laid  her  well- 
worn  family  Bible  aside.  It  had  been  her  mother's, 
and,  amid  all  the  anxieties  and  tribulations  incident 
to  the  life  of  a  woman  who  had  free  negroes  and  a 
miserable  husband  to  manage,  it  had  been  her  main 
stay  and  comfort.  She  had  frequently  read  it  in 
anger,  page  after  page,  without  knowing  what  was 
contained  in  the  lines.  But  eventually  the  words  be 
came  intelligible  and  took  meaning.  She  wrested 
consolation  from  it  by  mere  force  of  will. 

And  so  on  this  occasion  when  she  closed  the  book 
the  fierce  anger  was  gone. 

She  was  not  a  hard  woman  naturally.  Fate  had 
brought  her  conditions  which  covered  up  the  woman 
heart  within  her,  but,  though  it  lay  deep,  it  was  there 
still.  As  she  sat  with  folded  hands  her  eyes  fell 
upon  —  what  ? 

60 


ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE.  61 

The  pink  bonnet  with  the  blue  plume  ! 

It  may  appear  strange  to  those  who  do  not  under 
stand  such  natures,  but  to  me  her  next  action  was 
perfectly  natural.  She  burst  into  a  convulsive  laugh ; 
then  seizing  the  queer  object,  bent  her  face  upon  it 
and  sobbed  hysterically.  When  the  storm  was  over, 
very  tenderly  she  laid  the  gift  aside,  and  bare-headed 
passed  out  into  the  night. 

For  a  half -hour  she  stood  at  the  end  of  the  lane,  and 
then  hungry  Balaam  and  his  master  hove  in  sight. 
Reaching  out  her  hand,  she  checked  the  beast. 

"  William,"  said  she,  very  gently,  "  where  is  the 
mule  !  " 

The  elder  had  been  asleep.  He  woke  and  gazed 
upon  her  blankly. 

"  What  mule,  Hannah?" 

"  The  mule  you  rode  to  town." 

For  one  full  minute  the  elder  studied  her  face. 
Then  it  burst  from  his  lips  : 

"  Well,  bless  me  !  if  I  did  n't  bring  Balaam  and  for- 
git  the  mule  !  " 

The  woman  laughed  till  her  eyes  ran  water. 

"  William,"  said  she,  "  you  're  drunk.'' 

"  Hannah,"  said  he,  meekly,  "  I  know  it.  The  truth 
is,  Hannah,  I " 

"Never  mind  now,  William,"  she  said,  gently. 
"You  are  tired  and  hungry.  Come  into  the  house, 
husband." 


62  ELDER  BROWN'S  BACKSLIDE. 

Leading  Balaam,  she  disappeared  down  the  lane ; 
and  when,  a  few  minutes  later,  Hannah  Brown  and 
her  husband  entered  through  the  light  that  streamed 
out  of  the  open  door,  her  arms  were  around  him  and 
her  face  upturned  to  his. 


AN  IDYL  OF  "SINKIN'  MOUNT'IN." 


I. 


ZEKIEL  OBADIAH  SYKES  leaned 
over  the  tumble-down  split-picket 
fence  that  had  once  kept  the  pigs 
and  chickens  from  his  mother's  hum 
ble  flower-garden,  and  gazed  fixedly 
at  the  mountain  before  him.  His  was  not  a  striking 
figure,  being  lank  and  somewhat  round-shouldered. 
It  was  not  even  picturesque.  A  pair  of  worn  jean 
trousers  covered  his  lower  limbs,  and  were  held  in 
place  by  knit  "  galluses,"  which  crossed  the  back  of  his 
cotton  shirt  exactly  in  the  middle  and  disappeared 
over  his  shoulders  in  well-defined  grooves.  A  stained 
and  battered  wool  hat  hung  like  a  bell  over  his  head, 
which  rested  by  his  chin  upon  a  red,  rough  hand. 
The  face  was  half  covered  by  a  reddish  brown  beard, 
the  first  of  his  budding  manhood.  The  sun  had  just 
sunk  beyond  the  mountain,  and  the  great  shadow- 
that  crept  across  the  single  field  of  starving  corn  and 
the  tobacco  patch  deepened  into  twilight,  and  still  the 

63 


64  AN  IDT L   OF  "SINKIN*   MOUNT 'IN." 

young  man  rested  on  the  picket-fence.  Occasionally 
he  would  eject  into  the  half -defined  road,  which  came 
around  one  side  of  the  mountain  and  disappeared 
around  the  other,  a  stream  of  tobacco- juice,  and  pen 
sively  watch  it  as  it  lined  the  gravel  and  vanished  into 
the  soil  with  something  like  a  human  gasp.  Once  he 
lifted  a  bare  foot,  and  with  a  prolonged  effort  scratched 
with  its  horny  toes  the  calf  of  the  supporting  leg. 
But  by  no  motion  did  he  dissipate  the  air  of  listless- 
ness  and  despondency  that  hung  about  him. 

Fortune  had  not  smiled  upon  the  Sykes  family  for 
many  moons.  There  were  no  pigs  to  disturb  the 
flower-garden  overrun  with  prince's-feathers,  bache 
lor's-buttons,  four-o'clocks,  old-maids,  and  sunflowers, 
and  the  dismounted  gate  leaned  restfully  against  the 
post  on  which  it  had  once  hung.  Somehow  every 
thing  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Sykes  cottage 
seemed  inclined  to  lean  towards  something  else.  The 
cow  was  long  gone,  and  the  tiny  little  boarded  shed, 
which  straddled  the  sparkling  spring-branch  near  at 
hand  and  served  once  as  a  dairy,  was  lurching  to 
wards  the  hillside.  Near  the  staggering  fence  was  a 
bench  that  had  settled  back  against  it,  thrusting  its 
legs  well  to  the  front,  and  there  once  nestled  a  score 
of  bee-hives ;  but  none  remained,  and  only  the  great 
yellow  and  maroon  butterflies  that  floated  down  the 
valley,  and  the  bumblebees,  reveled  in  the  honey- 
flowers.  Perhaps  the  influence  of  these  facts  weighed 


AN  IDYL   OF  "SI2TEIN'   MOUNTAIN."  65 

upon  the  young  man's  mind,  and  cast  a  shadow  darker 
than  the  mountain's.  Certainly,  as  he  leaned  silently 
over  the  picket,  he  was  in  harmony  with  the  sur 
roundings. 

A  girl  came  out  into  the  twilight  of  the  little  porch, 
where  vines  were  clambering  pell-mell  up  a  rough 
trellis  of  peeled  rods,  and  carefully  poured  water  from 
a  gourd  into  a  dozen  tiny  pots  along  the  edge.  The 
pots  consisted  of  gourds  and  of  tin  cans  that  had  been 
brought  home  by  Ezekiel  from  the  refuse  of  the  great 
hotels  at  The  Falls,  ten  miles  or  more  away.  But 
they  answered  her  purposes  well,  only  they  presented 
a  somewhat  incongruous  appearance  ;  for  on  several 
from  which  bloomed  lovely  geraniums  —  cuttings  se 
cured  by  Ezekiel  from  character-studying  ladies  at 
the  same  hotels  —  flamed  great  red  tomatoes,  and 
where  little  sprigs  of  coleus  beamed  in  the  shadow 
shone  also  phenomenal  asparagus  and  the  violent-hued 
lobster.  The  dress  of  the  girl  was  a  well-worn  but 
neat-checked  homespun,  and  at  the  throat  was  a  bit  of 
faded  ribbon. 

"  D'rindy,  yuh  seen  Ezekiel  ? "  An  elderly  woman 
in  homespun,  of  the  same  design  as  the  girl's,  stood  in 
the  doorway  that  led  from  the  kitchen  upon  the  porch, 
holding  a  coffee-pot  in  hand. 

"No,  ma'am.  Zeke!  Oh-h-h-h,  Zeke!"  The  girl 
lifted  her  head  and  sung  out  the  name  until  the  moun 
tain  and  the  valley  gave  it  back  again  and  again. 


06  ^V  IDYL   OF  "  SINK  IN'   MOUNTAIN." 

"  What  yuh  warnt,  D'rindy  ? "  The  voice  came 
from  so  close  at  hand  in  the  gathering  shadows  as  to 
startle  her. 

"  Well,  I  d'clar7  ter  goodness'  sakes,  Ezekiel,  what 
yuh  doin'  out  thar  ? " 

"  Nuth'n'."     The  reply  was  low  and  careless. 

"  Come  in  an'  git  yuh  vittuls." 

"  Don't  warnt  nuth'n',  Ma.     Yuh-aU  eat." 

The  woman  looked  out  at  the  lone  figure  for  a 
moment,  then  went  in ;  and  presently  the  girl  thought 
fully  followed.  At  the  table,  upon  which  was  a  pone 
of  corn-bread,  a  pot  of  weak  coffee,  and  a  handless 
pitcher  of  molasses,  the  elder  said : 

"  I  'm  'f  eered  Ezekiel  ar'  ailin'.  Las'  night  he  would 
n'  tech  vittuls,  an'  hit  ain't  no  better  ter-night." 

"  Suthiii'  's  pesterin'  'im,"  Dorinda  said  simply ; 
"  er-pesterin'  es  mine."  An  old  man  sat  next  to  her 
and  shook  his  head. 

"  All  liers,  all  liers ! "  he  muttered.  He  was  evi 
dently  very  deaf,  and  there  was  not  a  hair  on  his  head, 
which  was  sunken  between  his  shoulders.  "Thar 
warn't  nair7  still ! "  The  women  paid  no  attention  to 
his  mutterings,  and  presently,  finishing  his  sop,  he 
wiped  his  fingers  upon  his  hips  and  shuffled  into  the 
corner  of  the  fireplace,  where  he  mumbled  to  himself 
awhile  and  then  fell  asleep. 

"  Yes,  suthin'  's  pesterin'  'im,"  said  the  old  woman 
after  a  pause.  "  Ezekiel  ain't  like  esse'f ."  The  girl 


AX  IDYL   OF  "SIXKIN'   MOUXT'IN"  67 

rested  her  elbows  on  the  table  and  watched  her  com 
panion  absently.  Presently  she  said  abruptly  : 

"  Ann'  Betsey,  yuh  reck'n  Zeke  hain't  still  er-frettin' 
'bout  Sal  Boler  gittin'  j'ined  ter  'er  feller  ? " 

"  Maybe  so ;  but  I  reck'n  hard  times  got  more  ter  do 
'ith  it.  Ezekiel  don't  see  no  chance  ahead  now."  She 
sighed,  but  added,  as  if  to  counteract  its  effect,  "  Not 
that  I  'm  distrust-in'.  Th'  Lord  '11  pervide :  he  allus 
pervides  fur  them  as  leans  on  'im."  Dorinda  looked 
wistfully  up  into  the  face  of  her  aging  companion  and 
was  silent.  Presently  she  rose  and  washed  the  few 
dishes,  placing  them  upon  their  shelf.  A  few  deft 
touches  restored  the  room  to  its  usual  scrupulously 
neat  condition.  Returning  the  coffee-pot  to  the  hearth 
again  and  the  remaining  bread  to  the  spider  for 
"  Zeke,"  as  she  had  always  called  him,  in  defiance  of  his 
mother's  example,  she  went  quietly  to  her  little  shed- 
room  at  the  end  of  the  porch  and  sat  down  to  think. 
She  was  Dorinda  Maddox,  not  Sykes,  the  daughter  of 
a  poor  woman  down  the  valley  who  died  in  the  arms 
of  Mrs.  Sykes,  five  years  before,  leaving  nothing  she 
might  call  her  own  but  this  one  lonely  child.  Her 
father  and  her  brother  had  been  killed  in  a  fight  with 
revenue  officers,  and  the  hairless,  driveling  old  man 
within  the  kitchen  had  suffered  two  years  of  imprison 
ment  ;  for  the  blood  shed  had  not  all  been  on  one  side. 
She  had  come  into  this  household  to  share  its  increas 
ing  burdens  and  diminishing  income,  but  not  to  eat 


08  ^^  IVYL    OF  "SINEIN*   MOUNT'IN." 

the  bread  of  idleness.  Never  had  mother  a  tenderer 
daughter;  never  an  orphan  a  better  mother.  Zeke 
had  been  her  one  playmate  and  protector,  and  the  lit 
tle  room,  built  when  she  grew  older,  was  the  result  of 
his  rough  carpentry. 

"  I  wunner  ef  he  es  er-frettin'  'bout  Sal  Boler  gittin' 
j'ined  ? "  she  asked  herself.  The  romance  was  familiar 
to  her  in  all  its  parts  from  the  day  when  Ezekiel  was 
smitten  until  faithless  Sal  wedded  a  stranger  from 
beyond  the  mountain,  and  he  sunk  back  into  despair 
and  silence.  She  stood  up  before  a  little  fragment  of 
glass  and  looked  at  herself.  It  was  a  tiny  room 
indeed,  but  marvelous  in  its  appointments.  The 
bare  boards  were  frescoed  with  autumn  leaves,  their 
tints  making  a  glory  in  the  half-lit  place.  Clusters 
of  chestnut-burrs  garnished  with  them  hung  around, 
and  here  and  there,  in  scraped  cow-horns  thrust  into 
crevices,  were  tucked  great  bunches  of  ferns  and 
scarlet  berries  and  goldenrod.  A  half-dozen  cheap 
prints  cut  from  periodicals  picked  up  at  The  Falls 
filled  the  waste  places,  and  festoons  of  bead-corn 
linked  them  together.  But  just  above  her  glass  was 
a  cheap  photograph  of  Zeke,  taken  years  before  in 
the  mountains  by  a  straggling  photographer  whom 
he  had  guided,  representing  him,  as  he  had  seen  the 
romantic  tourists,  posing  in  the  shadow  of  a  rock,  his 
hat  in  one  hand,  and  the  other,  for  want  of  a  coat, 


Dorinda. 


AN  IDYL   OF  "SINEIN'   MOUNT' IN."  69 

thrust  into  his  half -open  shirt-front  —  a  barefooted 
mountain  boy  whose  honest  eyes  looked  straight  into 
hers.  This  had  been,  from  the  day  Ezekiel  brought 
it  home,  the  treasure  of  her  girlhood.  The  frame 
about  it  was  like  none  other  in  the  world.  It  was 
of  mica,  made  of  sheets  larger  than  any  man's 
hand,  and  upon  their  surface  with  a  needle  she  had 
traced  ferns,  butterflies,  flowers,  and  leaves,  rubbing 
soot  into  the  lines  to  make  the  figures  stand  forth. 
This  was  her  gem ;  and  once  a  traveling  artist  who 
gazed  upon  it  said  that  it  was  wonderfully  true  to 
nature,  and  offered  to  buy  it.  He  might  as  well  have 
bartered  for  her  eyes.  The  little  room  held  only  her 
couch,  a  rude  chest,  a  splint  rocker,  and  a  stool, —  all 
Zeke's  work, —  a  brown  stone  bowl,  and  a  great  jug- 
shaped  gourd  which  served  her  for  a  pitcher. 

As  the  girl  stood  in  brown  reverie  before  the  frag 
ment  of  glass  she  heard  a  horse  approaching  at  a  fox 
trot,  and  presently  a  voice  exclaim  : 

"  Well,  Ezekyel,  how  es  time  er-sarvin'  you  an' 
yourn  ? "  She  recognized  the  drawl  of  an  old  "  hard 
shell  "  preacher  who  at  long  intervals  came  to  hold 
forth  in  the  neighborhood.  Then  Ezekiel's  voice : 

"  Po'ly,  Parson.     Light  ? " 

"  No ;  I  Jm  goin'  ter  lie  at  Sis'  Toomer's  ter-night. 
Will  see  yuh  out  ter  Zebberlon  come  er-Sunday. 
Th'  road  hain't  ther  bes'  an'  hit  's  er-gittin'  dark  — 


70  AN  IDYL   OF  "SINKIN'   MOUNT 'IN." 

whoa!  Oh,  Ezekyel," — she  heard  the  horse,  which 
had  started,  checked  again, — "  seen  Sal  Boler  'cross 
the  line  las'  month.  Th'  critter  she  war  er-j'ined  ter 
es  dead."  The  girl  in  her  little  room  clasped  her 
hands  and  sunk  back  on  the  couch.  She  could  but 
hear  what  followed. 

"  Yuh  don't  say ! " 

"  Be'n  dead  fo'  months  come  er-Friday.  She  ain't 
furgot  you,  Ezekyel."  Here  the  speaker  chuckled. 
"  She  do  say  that  ef  her  life  was  ter  come  roun'  ter 
be  lived  ergin,  she  'd  be  Mistis  Ezekyel  Sykes  down 
in  Raccoon  Holler." 

"  Did  Sal  say  hit  fur  er  fac',  Parson  ?  "  His  voice 
was  low. 

"  She  said  hit  fur  er  fac' ;  an'  Sal  hain't  er-need'n' 
no  man  ter  git  vittuls  fur  her.  The  Lord  he  has 
blessed  her  more  'n  many  er  prayin'  ooman  an'  the 
mother  er  chillum,  er  rer,  blessed  be  his  holy  name, 
er  rer !  An'  I  say  it  er-wonderin',  not  er-findin'  fault. 
Yes,  Sal 's  got  Ian'  an'  stock ;  no  eend  er  stock." 

The  girl  heard  his  horse's  footfalls  echo  out  in  the 
distance.  She  waited  long.  Then  Ezekiel  entered 
the  kitchen,  and  she  followed  quietly  and  placed 
his  bread  upon  the  table.  He  passed  into  the  only 
remaining  room  without  noticing  her. 

"  Ma,"  she  heard  him  say  quietly,  as  was  his  way, 
"  git  me  up  'bout  light.  I  'm  goin'  ter  th'  yan  side  er 


AN  IDYL   OF  "SINKIN'   MOUNTAIN."  71 

th'  mount'in  ter-morrer,  an'  maybe  I  won't  git  back 
afo'  Sunday." 

Dorinda  turned  and  went  out  as  silently  as  she 
came.  In  her  room  she  threw  herself  face  down 
upon  the  log-cabin  quilt  of  her  couch  and  sobbed 
herself  asleep. 


II. 

WHEN  Ezekiel  Sykes  arose  next  morning  respon 
sive  to  his  mother's  call,  daylight  was  glimmering 
faintly  on  the  mountain.  He  took  from  its  pegs  his 
red  jean  suit,  the  same  that  Sal  Boler  had  so  often 
seen  him  in,  now  a  little  worse  for  wear,  and  donned 
it,  putting  on  his  one  other  cotton  shirt.  Then  he 
slicked  his  hair  with  marrow-fat  from  a  horn,  and 
throwing  his  boots,  well  greased,  across  his  shoulder, 
rolled  up  his  trousers.  Prepared  for  his  journey,  he 
proceeded  to  the  kitchen  and  possessed  himself  of  a 
cup  of  cold  coffee  and  the  bread  put  aside  for  him. 
As  he  was  passing  out  his  mother  came  to  the  door. 

"  Fur  ther  Lor7  sakes,  Ezekiel,  whar  be  yuh  goin' 
ter,  boy  ?  " 

"Ter  the  yan  side  o'  the  mount'in,  Ma,"  he  said 
quietly.  Then  he  called  to  her  from  the  outside  :  "  I 
reck'n  yer  hain't  ter  see  me  afo'  Sunday." 

"Well,  that  beats  my  times,"  she  said,  gazing 
blankly  at  the  open  door.  Presently  she  began  to 
dress.  "  Sunday-meetin'  clothes  on,  an'  hit  er  Chues- 
day  !  Hit 's  onpossible  thet  Ezekiel  is  settin'  up  ter  er 

gal  over  thar "  She  paused  with  her  dress  half 

over  her  head.  "  No,  hit 's  onpossible ;  one  er  Ezekiel's 

72 


"Zeke,  less  see  how  yer  look.'' 


J^V  IDYL   OF  "SINKIN'   MOUNTAIN."  73 

queer  notions.  The  boy  war  never  jes'  like  yuther 
boys.  Ter  think/'  she  said,  laughing  softly,  "ter 
think  of  folks  callin'  him  'Doctor7 — ' Doctor  Zeke'! 
But  hit  's  er  fac'  thet  he  do  fech  sum  folks  'round 
estonishin'ly,  an'  thet 's  erbout  all  any  yuther  doctor 
c'n  say." 

When  Ezekiel  Sykes  took  the  road  at  early  dawn 
he  went  northward;  and  as  he  strolled  along  he 
whistled  softly.  A  great  change  had  come  over  him. 
He  carried  himself  erect,  as  in  olden  times,  and  smiled 
responsive  to  his  thoughts.  If  Dorinda  could  have 
seen  him  then  she  would  have  said,  "  Hit 's  Zeke  come 
ter  his  own  se'f  ergin."  The  perfidy  of  Sal  Boler  had 
been  a  crushing  blow  a  year  before  ;  he  had  suffered, 
and  his  pride  had  been  altogether  annihilated.  From 
a  self -laudatory  young  man  he  had  sunk  into  a  morose 
and  thoughtfully  distrustful  one.  If  he  had  had  the 
power  of  expression  he  might  have  become  a  cynic  in 
words,  as  he  was  in  fact.  He  had  borne  up  pretty 
well  under  the  waning  fortunes  of  the  Sykes  family 
and  the  disasters  which  befell  them  all  through  the 
father;  but  Sal's  conduct  finished  him  at  one  fell 
blow. 

"  '  Ef  her  life  war  ter  come  roun'  ter  be  lived  ergin, 
she  'd  be  Mistis  Ezekyel  Sykes  down  een  Raccoon 
Holler/"  he  said  aloud ;  and  then  he  laughed.  It  had 
been  many  a  day  since  he  had  laughed  like  that,  and 
he  realized  the  change.  "  Zeke,  less  see  how  yuh  look," 


74  AN  IDYL   OF  "SINKIN'   MOUNT'IN." 

he  added  jubilantly.  He  took  a  small  bit  of  glass 
from  his  coat-pocket,  thrust  it  behind  the  scale  of  a 
pine-tree's  bark,  and  solemnly  surveyed  his  counte 
nance. 

"  Hit 's  Zeke,"  he  admitted,  winking  and  twisting 
his  head.  "Zeke,  Ezekiel  Obadiah  Sykes  —  Dr.  Zeke. 
An'  I  reck'n  she  done  a  long  sight  worser  'n  looks 
when  she  j'ined  unto  that  Calliny  feller,  ef  she  did  n't 
in  Ian'  an'  stock."  He  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  to 
Ezekiel  in  the  glass,  and  smiled  at  Ezekiel  in  the 
glass,  and  rolled  his  tongue  at  Ezekiel  in  the  glass. 
"  Ezekiel,"  said  he  finally,  "  ding  yuh  ole  skin,  ef  I 
wuz  ter  meet  yer  on  ther  road  I  'd  say,  '  Ther  goes  er 
feller  fit  ter  run  er  gal  crazy.'  I  would,  fer  er  fac'. 
Yer  ar*  er  bad  un."  He  winked  with  both  eyes  vio 
lently.  "  No  eend  to  Ian'  an'  stock ! " 

With  a  loud  guffaw  he  returned  the  reflector  to  his 
pocket,  and  whistling  and  singing  by  turns  resumed 
his  journey.  The  change  that  had  come  over  him  was 
marvelous. 

Ezekiel  had  covered  about  fifteen  miles,  and  was 
upon  a  better  road  when  he  was  overtaken  by  a  spank 
ing  team,  driven  by  a  good-natured,  easy-going  young 
man,  who  hailed  him  pleasantly. 

"Ride,  stranger!" 

"  In  course,"  said  Zeke ;  "  an'  glad  ter  get  hit.  How 
fur  yuh  travelin'  ?  " 

"  Up  about  Red  Creek." 


AN  IDYL   OF  "SIX KIN'   MOUNT' IN."  75 

"  Well,  now,  thet  's  what  I  calls  luck,"  said  Zeke,  as 
he  settled  down  on  the  proffered  seat.  "  So  'm  I." 

The  young  man  smiled  at  the  speaker's  general  ap 
pearance  and  manner.  His  own  shoes  were  on  and 
blacked,  and  there  was  a  well-bred  business  look  about 
him  that  Ezekiel  noticed. 

"  Be  yuh  er-stayin'  thar  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  stranger,  looking  at  him  keenly  but 
slyly.  "  Where  do  you  hail  from  f  " 

i '  Raccoon  Holler." 

"Farming?" 

"  Some,  an'  er-docterin'  some.1' 

"  So !  You  are  a  doctor,  then.  Allopathic  or  homeo 
pathic  ? " 

Ezekiel  reflected.     "  Mostly  yarbs,"  he  said. 

His  companion  smiled  again.  "I  see;  one  of  na 
ture's  doctors.  Best  sort,  after  all." 

Under  this  flattering  admission  Ezekiel  expanded 
at  once. 

"Think  so?" 

"  I  do,  indeed." 

Ezekiel  stretched  out  his  hand.  "  Glad  ter  know 
yuh.  What  mout  be  your  name?" 

"  Tom  Summers." 

"  Dr.  Ezekiel  Obadiah  Sykes,"  he  said  gravely. 

"  Glad  to  know  you,  Doc.  It  is  lonesome  up  here ; 
glad  to  have  your  company." 

"'Tis  kinder  lonesome,"  admitted  Ezekiel.     Then, 


76  AN  IDYL   OF  "  SINKIN*  MQUNT'IN" 

after  a  pause :  "  But,  stranger,  you  kinder  fetched  me 
erwhile  back  when  yuh  war  er-talkin'  'bout  natur'  and 
er-docterin'  'cordin'  ter  natur7." 

"  Indeed ! " 

"  Thet  's  my  way.  I  hain't  be'n  ter  school,  an'  what 
I  got  war  picked  up  hyah  'n'  thar  f'om  one  'n'  ernuther. 
Folks  got  ter  callin'  me  '  Dr.  Zeke,'  an'  so  hit  goes ;  an' 
Dr.  Zeke  hit  ar'  till  now ;  an'  some  er  um  Vd  tell  yuh 
thet  Dr.  Zeke  knowed  er  thing  er  two,  maybe,  ef  yer 
asked  um." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it." 

"  Hit  war  the  funniest  thing  th'  way  hit  come  er- 
bout  —  my  er-gittin  to  be  er  natur's  docter.  I  war 
er-workin'  'roun'  on  the  mount'in  er-huntin'  fur  arrer- 
root,  an'  I  hearn  a  voice,  as  plain  as  I  ar'  hyarin'  them 
horses'  foots,  er-sayin' :  '  Dr.  Zeke,  give  natur7  what 
natur5  calls  fur,'  and  I  went  right  ter  stud'in',  day  in 
an'  day  out,  what  hit  meant.  But  one  day  Mistis 
ToQjner,  'rouii'  th'  mount'in,  she  come  ter  me  an'  says, 
says  she,  '  Dr.  Zeke,  the  baby  ar7  mortul'  sick,  an'  ar' 
continnerwally  er-cryin'  fur  raw  'taters  an'  fried 
greens.'" 

"  And  you  gave  them  to  her  ? "" 

"  Quicker  ner  lightnin'  hit  come  ter  me  what  war 
meant  'bout  natur'  callin',  an'  I  says,  says  I :  '  Mahaly 
Toomer,  ef  the  baby  ar7  mortul'  sick  an'  ar'  er-con- 
tinnerwally  cry  in'  fur  raw  'taters  an'  fried  greens, 
give  her  raw  'taters  an'  fried  greens';  an'  with  thet 


^V  IDYL   OF  "SIXKI2T'   MOUNT'IN."  77 

I  warks  off  an'  leaves  'er  stan'in'  in  th'  road  like  one 
seized  uv  er  sperrit.  Mahaly  told  our  folks  nex'  day 
thet  she  laid  out  thet  Dr.  Zeke  bed  done  gone  plum 
crazy,  but  bimeby,  er-knowin'  my  ways,  she  up  an' 
give  the  chile  hits  'taters  an'  fried  greens." 

"  Death  was  instantaneous,  I  suppose  ? '' 

11  Death !  Why,  ther  chile  ar'  ter-day  ther  out- 
strappinest  boy  in  Rabun  County." 

The  stranger  laughed. 

"  Well,  that  was  wonderful,  indeed.  But,  Doctor, 
seriously,  what  would  you  do  if  nature  should  call 
for  something  out  of  season?" 

Dr.  Zeke  pursed  up  his  lips,  and,  looking  out  across 
the  mountains,  scratched  his  chin. 

"  Natur',"  he  said  presently,  "  hain't  goin'  ter  call 
fur  thet  which  natur'  hain't  got  —  thet  is,  ginerally. 
But  hit  do  sometimes  so  happen  thet  way." 

"  Then  comes  practice  by  substitute."  The  stran 
ger  passed  the  reins  while  he  went  down  into  a 
leather  case  for  cigars. 

"No,"  said  the  doctor;  "hit  won't  work  thet  er 
way.  Now  thar  war  Sis'  Debory  Jinkins,  which 
word  come  es  how  she  war  seized  with  er  Ion  gin'  fur 
watermillion,  when  watermillious  war  long  gone ; 
an'  I,  knowin'  thet  gourds  war  somewhat  arter  th' 
make  er  th'  watermillion, —  sorter  half  kin  on  one 
side,  anyhow,— had  um  fetch  er  green  gourd,  an' 
we  put  hit  down  Sis'  Debory's  throat,  her  ma  er- 


78  AN  IDTL   OF  "SINKIN'   MOUNTAIN." 

holdin'  her,  fur  she  did  kick  pow'ful,  bein'  natur'ly 
of  a  contrerry  natur7  an'  havin'  no  longin'  fur  thet 
eend  of  the  watermillion  family.  We  put  it  down 
her  throat " 

"  I  suppose  it  satisfied  her  longing  for  watermelon." 

"  Yes,  hit  satisfied  her  longin'  fur  most  ev'ything 
fur  erwhile ;  leastways,  she  never  said  nothin'  more 
erbout  watermillions ;  but  Sis'  Debory  come  nigh 
unter  death  with  colic  afo'  mornin',  an'  sense  tkfet 
time  I  hain't  hed  faith  in  substytoots.  Ef  natur7 
calls  fur  what  natur7  hain't  got,  I  argy  thet  hit  ain't 
Dr.  Zeke  thet 's  ter  blame  ;  an'  I  ginerally  waits  ontel 
natur'  calls  fur  suthin'  ter  hand." 

Something  like  five  miles  had  been  covered  during 
the  exposition  of  the  Sykes  theory  of  medical  prac 
tice,  when  Ezekiel  suddenly  changed  the  subject. 

"  Stranger,  yuh  ever  hyar  er  th'  Widder  Martin  — 
Sallie  Boler  thet  war,  up  een  Red  Crick  settlement?" 
he  asked. 

"Yes,  indeed.  Nice  woman  she  is,  too."  The 
stranger  spoke  without  hesitation.  Ezekiel  was  silent 
for  a  full  minute ;  then,  unable  to  contain  the  secret 
any  longer,  he  continued : 

"  Well,  hit 's  'bleeged  ter  come  out.  I  'm  er-courtin' 
th'  same." 

"  Indeed  ?  Bully  boy,  and  good  luck  to  you  !  Is 
she  pretty  well  fixed  ? " 

"  Fixed  ? " 


AN  IDYL   OF  "SINEIN*  MOUNT 'IN."  79 

"  Got  any  land  —  money  ? " 

"  Er  whole  county,  an'  no  eend  er  stock." 

"  Go  in,  old  fellow,  and  win  ! "  said  his  companion 
impressively.  "  And  you  are  really  courting  her  ? " 

"  Thet  's  what  er  said.     Ever  meet  her,  stranger  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.     The  widow  and  I  are  good  friends." 

"  Yuh  don't  say  !  " 

"We  are,  indeed." 

"  Then,  stranger,  yuh  stop  erlong  'ith  us  ter-night. 
She  '11  be  pow'f  ul  glad  ter  see  'er  ole  friend,  an'  any 
body  thet  Ezekiel  Sykes  brings  '11  be  welcome  ter 
the  bes'." 

For  a  full  hour  and  a  half  Ezekiel  held  forth  upon 
the  subject  that  was  consuming  him,  but  when  at 
length  they  reached  a  little  branch  he  called  "  Whoa ! " 
and  the  willing  horses  came  to  a  halt. 

"  Stranger,"  said  he,  "  will  you  hole  up  er  minute 
tell  I  spruce  er  bit  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly." 

Ezekiel  alighted  from  the  buggy,  and,  washing  his 
feet  in  the  stream,  wiped  them  upon  the  grass  and 
drew  on  his  boots.  After  this  he  stuck  the  little 
glass  in  a  tree  again,  put  on  his  coat,  and  producing 
a  faded  red  cravat  proceeded  to  tie  it  about  his  neck. 
Then  he  combed  his  well-oiled  locks  with  his  fingers. 

"  Thet  '11  do  fur  th'  widder,"  he  said  as  he  climbed 
back  into  the  buggy. 

The  two  journeyed  along  pleasantly  until  the  sum- 


80  AN  IDYL   OF  "SIN KIN'   MOUNT'IN." 

mit  of  the  ridge  was  reached  and  the  opposite  valley 
lay  spread  before  them.  Here  the  stranger,  after  a 
few  minutes7  reflection,  said,  his  eyes  twinkling : 

"  Dr.  Sykes,  perhaps  I  ought  to  have  mentioned  it 
before,  but  the  fact  is  I  married  Widow  Martin  my 
self  two -weeks  ago." 

Ezekiel  looked  at  him  blankly  for  a  full  minute, 
then  reached  out  and  caught  the  lines,  and  with  a 
slow  steady  pull  brought  the  horses  to  a  standstill. 
The  stranger's  face  was  as  calm  and  impassive  as 
a  June  sky. 

"  Yuh  don'  say !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"  Fact.  But  don't  turn  back  on  that  account.  Any 
friend  of  mine  will  be  welcome  at  Sal's.  Besides,  she 
wants  to  see  you,  for  I  have  heard  her  say  so." 

Ezekiel  still  surveyed  him  piteously.  Then  he 
slowly  reached  down  and  drew  off  first  one  and  then 
the  other  boot.  His  cravat  was  returned  to  his 
pocket.  Springing  to  the  ground,  he  caught  the  line 
nearest  him. 

"  Stranger,"  he  said,  "  Widder  Martin's  new  hus- 
bun  's  er-goin'  ter  get  whupped  !  Oh,  yuh  need  11' 
laugh ! " 

"  Sykes,"  said  his  late  companion,  wiping  the  tears 
from  his  eyes  and  still  shaking,  "  let  go  that  line." 

"  I  'm  th'  bes'  man  in  Rabun  County,"  said  Ezekiel, 
dancing  in  the  road.  "  Come  down,  come  down  ! " 

"  You  're  the  biggest  fool ! " 


AN  IDYL   OF  "SINKIN'   MOUNT 'IN:'  81 

Ezekiel  was  fairly  boiling  with  rage. 

"  Light,  light !  "  he  yelled.  Then  as  the  stranger 
made  no  motion  to  comply,  Ezekiel  began  to  kick  the 
nearest  horse  in  the  stomach  with  all  his  might,  and 
that  animal  responded  by  rearing  and  plunging  vio 
lently.  The  stranger  "  lit."  Unfortunately  for  Ezek 
iel,  he  was  caught  in  the  act  of  pulling  off  his  coat. 
He  was  a  doomed  man  from  the  outset.  For  about 
three  minutes  there  was  an  animated  spectacle  in  the 
road,  and  then  Ezekiel  fled  from  the  spot,  as  was  per 
fectly  proper,  since  he  could  have  accomplished  noth 
ing  desirable  by  remaining,  and  the  stranger  was  at 
white  heat.  Kicking  the  horse  had  upset  his  temper 
completely. 

"  Confound  the  fellow  !  "  he  said  ;  "  I  've  a  great 
mind  to  carry  off  his  boots  and  coat." 

But  he  did  not,  and  nature's  physician  regained 
them  when  the  coasts  were  cleared,  and,  bleeding  and 
dazed,  took  the  back  track.  At  the  little  branch  he 
stuck  his  glass  in  the  tree  again  and  began  an  exam 
ination  of  himself.  One  eye  was  nearly  closed,  his 
lip  was  cut,  and  his  nose  was  swollen.  Minor  injur 
ies  helped  to  make  him  the  unhappiest  of  mortals. 
Long  time  he  studied  himself  in  silence.  Presently 
he  said,  a  great  tear  oozing  from  the  blackened  eye  : 

"  Ef  'e  had  n'  er  got  een  that  ar  fust  sub-binder 
unner  thet  ear,  afo'  I  got  out'n  th'  coat,  Widder  Mar 
tin's  new  husbun  'u'd  er  be'n  in  er  worser  fix  'n  thet." 


82  ^LV  IDYL   OF  "SiyKIX'  MO  CUT 'IS* 

He  checked  the  tears  and  examined  himself  critically. 
Finally  he  said  more  calmly :  "  Hit  war  done  com 
plete  aii'  no  mistake.'' 

As  he  slowly  and  painfully  resumed  his  journey 
homeward  he  added :  "  *  Ef  her  life  war  ter  come  round 
ter  be  lived  ergin,  she  'd  be  Mistis  Ezekyel  Sykes 
down  een  Raccoon  Holler,'  she  would ! "  He  shook 
his  head  pitifully :  "  0  Sal,  Sal ;  my  heart  ai^  plum 
broke!" 


m. 

"LAH  sakes.  Ezekiel.  what  ails  yuh,  boy?"  Again 
the  shadow  of  the  great  mountain  was  deepening  over 
the  little  cottage,  when,  foot-sore,  bruised,  weary, 
and  disconsolate.  Ezekiel  Sykes  dragged  himself  in 
through  the  open  gate  and  dropped  his  boots  upon 
the  floor  of  the  porch,  his  coat  beside  them.  His 
mother's  salutation  roused  him.  and  he  raised  a  quiz 
zical  face  to  hers  —  a  face  which  surely  only  a  mother 
could  have  recognized.  A  faint  smile  flittered  among 
the  few  clearings  upon  it  —  a  dim  ghost  of  his  old 
smile. 

"  Be'n  ter  th*  van  side  of  the  mount'in.  Ma  !  "  He 
sank  upon  the  top  step  and  rested  his  chin  upon  his 
hand.  "  An'  I  hain't  er-torkin'  much  erbout  hit  ter- 
night." 

The  woman  checked  her  second  exclamation.  She 
was  used  to  the  young  man's  moods :  and,  besides. 
the  results  of  the  fist  and  skull  fights  were  perfectly 
familiar  to  her  in  that  rough  country  of  green  whisky 
and  exciting  elections.  But  for  Ezekiel  to  come  home 
in  these  piping  days  of  peace  bearing  evidences  of 
having  figured  on  the  losing  side  of  a  scrimmage  was 
altogether  novel. 


84  AN  IDYL   OF  "8INE1N*  MO  UNI 'IN." 

"  Ezekiel,"  she  said,  "  tell  yuh  ma  how  hit  come 
erbout  ? "  Ezekiel  ejected  a  stream  of  tobacco-juice 
from  between  his  swollen  lips,  and  wiped  them  gently 
with  the  back  of  his  hand. 

"  Hit  all  come  uv  one  sub-binder  uimer  thet  ar  ear ; 
hit  war  lammed  when  I  war  er-pullin'  out  er  my  coat 
an'  my  arm  hit  war  stickin'  ter  the  sleeve.  Ef  th' 
mountain  hitse'f  hed  er  fell  thar,  hit  'u'd  er  be'n  erbout 
ther  size  er  thet  ar  lick.  But,  Ma,  cook  suthin'  quick. 
Hit 's  be'n  nigh  onter  two  mortul  days  sence  I  eat.  I 
did  n't  want  nobody  er-laughin'  at  Ezekiel  Sykes,  an' 
so  I  come  honggry  all  ther  way  back." 

"  Why,  sakes  erlive,  ther  boy  mus'  be  er-perishin'. 
Set  right  thar,  Ezekiel,  an'  don't  yuh  move  er  peg  tell 
I  git  er  pone  er  bread  an'  er  pot  er  coffee." 

The  good  woman  bustled  off  and  disappeared. 
While  this  brief  scene  was  enacting,  Dorinda  stood 
within  the  shadows  of  her  little  room,  her  fingers 
clasped  and  eyes  set  eagerly  upon  the  pair.  Her 
mother's  form  had  but  disappeared  in  the  kitchen  when 
she  glided  out  and  sank  upon  her  knees  at  the  young 
man's  side,  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"O  Zeke,  Zeke  !  "  she  whispered,  "lemme  do  suthin' 
fur  yuh !  Are  yuh  hurted  bad,  Zeke ! " 

He  gazed  at  her  with  his  one  open  eye  a  full 
minute  before  replying.  The  look  was  so  comical,  so 
utterly  foreign  to  him,  so  pathetic  withal,  that  she 
finally  threw  her  head  back  and  laughed  until  the  val- 


Zeke  and  Dorinda, 


^,V  IDYL   OF  "SINKIS*   MOUNT' IN."  85 

ley  seemed  to  swarm  with  silvery  echoes.  Ezekiel 
blinked  wisely  ai  her. 

"  D'rindy,"  he  said,  "  yuh  better  laugh  fur  two ;  I 
ain'  ekil  ter  any  ter-night." 

And  so  she  did.  Her  emotion,  which  was  deeper 
than  the  occasion,  ran  off  in  laughter  that  approached 
the  hysterical. 

"  O  Zeke ! "  she  gasped,  "  s'posen  thet  ar  pictur' 
man  hed  er  took  yer  ter-day ! "  Zeke's  queer  smile 
came  out  again,  gamboled  pitifully  in  the  small  clear 
ings  of  his  countenance,  and  went  back  with  a  sud 
denness  that  was  grotesque.  The  girl  was  still  hold 
ing  her  sides,  but  presently  she  wiped  her  eyes  with 
her  apron. 

"O  Zeke,"  she  said.  "I  'm  so  sorry!  What  kin  I 
do  fur  yuh?" 

"  Natur7  is  er-callin'  fur  suthin'  to  go  innards,"  he 
declared  oracularly,  "  sech  es  Ma  gits  up ;  an'  I  reck'n 
as  how  natur'  ought  ter  be  callin'  fur  suthin'  ter  go 
outside.  Git  some  water,  D'rindy.  Ef  hit  had  n'  er 

be'n  fur  thet  arleadin'  sub-binder "  But  the  girl 

had  glided  into  her  room  and  caught  up  her  crock. 
She  sped  out  to  the  little  rivulet,  sparkling  icy  cold 
from  the  spring.  Presently  she  came  back  with  it 
full  and  placed  it  on  the  step. 

"Now,  Zeke,"  she  said,  "yuh  jes'  set  down  thar 
on  th'  nex'  step  an'  lay  yuh  head  in  my  lap  —  so ! 
Now  keep  still."  Her  plump  little  hand  cupped  water 


86  ^V  IDYL   OF  "SINKIN'   MOUNT'IX* 

against  the  swollen  places  of  his  head,  and  as  she 
bathed  them  thus  the  young  man,  soothed  and  quieted, 
ever  and  anon  gazed  up  into  her  violet  eyes  and 
flushed  face. 

"  I  declar*  ter  goodness,  D'rindy,"  he  said,  seeking 
for  some  way  to  express  his  gratitude,  "  yuh  han'  's  es 
sof  es  er  moss-patch,  an'  yuh  es  putty  es  th'  sunset 
on  th'  mount'in." 

"  Shet  yer  jaw,  Zeke ;  yer  pokin'  fun  at  me !  An' 
yuh  eyes  can'  see  ter-night,  nuther." 

Still  her  heart  "heat  fast  and  strong.  It  was  the 
first  compliment  a  man  had  ever  paid  to  her  looks. 
She  might  live  out  her  lonely  life  unblessed  here  in 
the  valley,  and  the  horizon  of  her  daily  existence  be 
the  long  blue  peaks  and  her  simple  household  duties ; 
but  the  memory  of  the  words  that  she  had  heard 
would  dwell  with  her  always.  Her  soul  could  thrive 
upon  a  crust  that  other  women  would  spurn. 

Silence  fell  upon  them,  the  gliding  water  lapping 
the  bruised  face  and  lullabying  the  perturbed  spirit, 
the  soft  hand  of  the  girl  weaving  a  spell  for  the 
wounded  warrior.  Long  time  they  sat  thus,  and  ever 
and  anon  his  single  eye  sought  the  face  above  it. 
Something  of  wonder  was  stirring  within  him.  Hers 
was  a  beautiful  face ;  he  had  never  known  it  before. 
He  had  seen  it  a  thousand  times ;  how  was  it  that 
the  fact  had  escaped  him  ?  "  She  ar7  putty  as  ther 
sunset  on  ther  mount'in,"  he  assented  dreamily,  in- 


AN  IDYL   OF  "  ISINKIN'   MOUNT' IX"  S7 

dorsing  his  own  compliment;  "an'  er  dern  sight 
puttier."  The  remaining  orb  blinked  at  her  dreamily 
and  closed  beside  its  mate. 

"  What  yuh  sayin',  Zeke  f  " 

u  I  war  er-sayin'  er  dern  sight  puttier ;  thet  's  what 
I  war  er-sayin',"  he  answered  faintly. 

uWho?"  she  asked  softly.  Then  presently  she 
added,  "  Sal  Boler  ?  "  One  of  Ezekiel's  eyes  opened 
wide;  the  other  struggled  in  vain  beneath  its  thick 
blue  curtain. 

"  Who  said  Sal  Boler?" 

She  turned  her  face  away  and  fixed  her  gaze  upon 
the  distant  peaks.  Her  reply  was  just  audible  and 
full  of  pathos : 

"Yuh  went  thar,  Zeke.  I  did  n'  mean  ter  hyah 
hit,  but  th'  parson  talked  so  loud.  War  she  trooly  a 
widder,  Zeke,  an' —  an' —  did  she  trooly  wanter  come 
an'  be  —  Mistis  Ezekiel  Sykes  down  een  Raccoon 
Holler?" 

It  was  out  at  last ;  and  the  sentence  seemed  to  end 
almost  in  a  moan.  One  tear  fell  down  from  above 
him,  but  it  splashed  only  the  little  hand  that  soothed 
his  wounds. 

"  D'rindy,"  he  answered  after  a  long  silence,  "  I  had 
er  mind  ter  keep  my  jaw  shet,  but  hit  hain't  no  use 
now.  An'  I  don't  care  noway.  D'rindy,  Sal  Boler 
hes  done  j'ined  ter  er  city  feller,  an'  hit  war  him  what 
shet  thet  ar  eye  !  Hit  makes  yuh  jump,  an'  hit  made 


88  AN  IDYL   OF  "SINKIN'   MOUNT' IN." 

me  jump  too,  at  fust.  D'rindy,  ef  any  man  hed 
er  said  ter  me  yestiddy  mornin'  when  I  went  out  er 
thet  gate, '  Ezekiel  Sykes,  Sal  Boler  is  j'ined  ter  er  city 
feller,  an'  th'  city  feller  is  goin'  ter  lick  yuh  af  o'  night,' 
I  'd  er  said  he  war  er  dinged  fool  ef  no  worser,  an' 
ter  es  face.  But  them  ar  is  ther  two  things  hes 
come  erbout.  An  I  mus'  say,  thet  while  I  don'  think 
no  better  er  Sal  Boler,  but  on  the  contrarywise  do 
set  her  down  fer  er  huzzy,  hit  mus'  be  'lowed  thet 
thar  es  suthin'  more  in  city  fellers  'n  I  most  ginerally 
have  let  on ;  only  hit  ain't  er  fair  fight  ter  open  up 
'ith  sub-binders  on  the  ear  when  er  man  is  hung  een 
his  coat-sleeve." 

"  An'  did  yuh  see  'er,  Zeke  ? " 

"  No.  I  seed  whar  she  war  said  ter  be  er-livin',  an' 
then  me  an'  the  city  feller  thet  had  gimme  a  lift  got 
ter  jawin',  an'  hit  come  out  thet  Sal  Boler  was  done 
j'ined  unter  him  two  weeks  or  more.  One  word 
started  ernuther,"  he  added,  "  an'  ernuther  started 
ther  sub-binder." 

Ezekiel  was  expanding  under  the  humane  treat 
ment,  and  could  afford  even  to  indulge  in  pleasantry. 

Mrs.  Sykes  dissipated  the  charm  that  had  been 
woven  about  them  by  appearing  suddenly  with  a 
great  quantity,  though  limited  variety,  of  the  physic 
that  "  natur' "  had  called  for  in  behalf  of  Ezekiel,  and 
to  which  the  patient  took  kindly,  not  to  say  greedily. 
Dorinda  watched  him  eat  with  a  vague  unrest  in  her 


^V  IDYL   OF  "SINK IX'   MOUNT' IN"  $9 

heart.  There  is  nothing  at  any  time  attractive  to  a 
woman  in  the  sight  of  a  hungry  man  at  his  meals. 
But  when  Ezekiel  went  in  to  lie  down  upon  his 
mother's  bed,  as  he  used  to  when  a  boy  when  tired 
or  troubled, —  and  was  he  not  still  her  boy?  — 
the  deserted  girl  stood  up  gazing  on  the  mountains 
veiled  in  their  violet  mists  into  which  the  blue  sky  of 
the  ending  day  was  melting,  their  depths  shot  with 
roseate  rays.  The  scene  was  miniatured  in  her 
shadowy  eyes,  where  a  softer  light  was  beaming. 

"  He 's  come  back  free,  an'  he  said  my  han'  war  soft 
es  er  patch  er  moss,  an'  I  war  es  putty  es  the  sunset 
on  th'  mount'ins :  he  said  hit ! "  Her  eyelids  drooped 
over  their  orbs,  and  her  chin  sunk  upon  her  breast. 
Then,  starting  as  from  a  dream,  she  followed  into 
the  house. 

That  night,  when  Dorinda  lay  dreaming  in  the  lit 
tle  shed-room  so  full  of  her  own  life,  there  came 
down  the  valley  a  deep,  booming,  roaring  volume  of 
sound,  and  the  house  trembled  responsive  to  its 
vibrations.  Nearer  it  approached,  and  her  room  was 
filled  with  the  fierce  light  of  an  electric  flash  which 
seemed  to  explode  there.  Blinded,  stunned,  terrified, 
she  groped  toward  the  door  and  lifted  the  latch.  She 
was  almost  thrown  down  by  the  storm  that  burst  in 
upon  her.  The  air  seemed  full  of  timbers,  stones, 
and  flying  drift,  and  the  thunder  was  as  the  thunder 
of  the  waters  that  come  down  at  Tallulah  when  the 


90  AH  IDYL   OF  "SiyKIN'   MOUNT 'IN." 

river  is  full.  Her  voice  when  she  called  was  beaten 
back  as  a  feather  in  her  throat.  The  timbers  of  the 
little  room  seemed  about  to  fly  apart.  Gasping  with 
fear,  unable  to  close  the  door  against  the  mighty 
blast,  she  gave  herself  up  for  lost.  With  her  limbs 
benumbed,  she  tottered  and  fell.  There,  as  she  lay 
awaiting  death,  a  man  came  and  in  the  screaming 
fury  of  the  storm  lifted  her  in  his  arms.  There  was 
a  moment  in  which  the  deluge  splashed  her  face  and 
the  next  instant  she  was  drawn  into  the  warm 
kitchen.  She  saw  by  the  tremulous  light  of  the 
mysterious  flame  the  half-blackened  face  of  Ezekiel 
bent  above  her,  and  faintly  as  one  calling  afar  off 
heard  his  mother's  voice : 

"  He  holds  th'  thunder  een  es  han' 
An'  rides  upon  th'  storm," 

just  as  the  parson  used  to  line  it  out  at  Zebulon. 
Then  came  darkness. 

When  Dorinda  gained  consciousness  her  adopted 
mother  was  bathing  her  face;  they  were  alone, 
Ezekiel  having  withdrawn  at  her  command.  The 
storm  was  now  at  its  height,  and  the  room  was  full 
of  the  sudden  and  fearful  blazes.  Dorinda  struggled 
to  her  feet  again.  Her  lips  moved  rapidly,  but  all 
sound  was  lost  in  the  din  of  the  battle  waged  about 
them.  Suddenly  she  broke  from  the  elder  woman's 
clasp  and  rushed  to  the  porch.  For  an  instant  her 
mother  thought  that,  crazed  with  fear,  she  had 


AN  IDTL   OF  "SINKIN'   MOUNT'IN."  91 

thrown  herself  into  the  storm,  but  in  the  next  back 
came  the  girl  through  the  furious  elements,  drenched, 
and  with  her  hair  blown  wildly  over  her  half-nude 
shoulders.  The  lightning  trembled  over  and  seemed 
to  lick  her  form  from  head  to  foot,  and  by  the  sheen 
of  its  liquid,  wavy  flame  she  saw  that  the  girl's  hand 
clinched  the  little  photograph  of  Ezekiel,  torn  from 
its  frame  of  mica,  while  her  face  in  its  beautiful 
triumph  seemed  almost  glorified.  The  secret  was 
written  there. 

"  D'rindy,  D'rindy,  child !  "  she  cried.  "  Why  hain't 
yuh  tole  me  afo' ! " 

The  words,  screamed  as  they  were  in  the  night  from 
the  heart  of  the  woman,  did  not  reach  the  girl,  who 
covered  up  the  little  picture  in  her  chilled  bosom, 
and  crouched  shivering  by  the  smoldering  fire.  Her 
companion  gazed  upon  her  piteonsly,  then  kneeled 
beside  her,  and,  pointing  upward,  moved  her  lips. 
Dorinda  understood,  and  followed  her  example.  Still 
raged  the  storm ;  such  an  one  had  never  before  burst 
upon  Raccoon  Hollow.  Suddenly  there  was  a  noise 
as  though  the  mountain  itself  had  been  riven  asunder, 
and  the  house  shook  until  the  crockery  danced  upon 
the  shelves.  Then  all  grew  still.  Rising  to  her  feet, 
the  elder  woman  drew  the  shivering  girl  to  the  bed 
where  the  old  man,  deaf  to  the  storm  and  oblivious  of 
life,  slept  the  sleep  of  second  childhood,  wrapped  a 
blanket  about  her  and  thrust  her  under  cover. 

"  Ma,"  she  moaned,  and  the  word  sounded  as  it  did 


92  AX  IDYL   OF  "  SIN  KIN'   MOUNT 'IN." 

when  on  that  sad  day  years  ago  the  kind-hearted 
woman  received  her  as  a  charge  —  "  Ma,  kiss  me  onct, 
please";  just  the  appeal  made  to  the  dead  that  lay 
unresponsive  to  its  frightened  offspring.  It  was*  the 
first  time  that  she  had  used  it  since.  With  tears 
streaming  from  her  eyes  the  woman  bent  and  kissed 
her  thrice,  and  her  lips  when  she  rose  were  wet  with 
the  tears  of  the  girl. 

"  An'  him  er-lovin'  nobody  but  ole  Tom  Boler's  gal/' 
she  said.     "Hit 's  more  'n  I  kin  make  out." 


IV. 

IN  the  morning,  when  Ezekiel  looked  forth  from 
the  doorway,  an  appalling  spectacle  met  his  gaze. 
The  mountain  had  actually  split  asunder,  and  one  half 
had  sunk  far  down  below  the  other.  So  sharply  was 
the  line  drawn  that  a  great  pine,  yielding  one-half  its 
trunk  to  the  departed,  upreared  the  other  with  the 
firmer  rock,  its  white  riven  heart  blazing  the  hillside 
like  a  monument.  Pale  with  astonishment,  Ezekiel 
gazed  long  upon  the  scene,  but  there  was  something 
yet  more  appalling  reserved  for  him  —  not  a  stalk  of 
corn  was  left  in  the  valley!  His  mother  came  to  him, 
and  was  silent  too  in  awe  at  the  desolation  apparent 
and  the  change  in  the  familiar  old  mountain.  "  All 
gone,  Ma,  all  gone  ! "  he  groaned.  The  lips  of  the  pale 
woman  trembled.  She  was  wont  to  say  that  her  faith 
was  like  the  mountain,  but  was  not  the  mountain  split 
at  last  ?  Her  hand  rested  upon  him  as  it  had,  oh  so 
many,  many  times  when  trouble  oppressed  them. 

"  Th'  Lord  '11  pervide,  Ezekiel.  He  kep'  us  in  the 
night,  an'  he  kin  keep  us  in  th'  day." 

"  I  be'n  hyarin'  that,  Ma,  all  these  years,  an'  now 
look !  Poorer  'n'  poorer  year  een  an'  year  out.  Es 
fur  me,  I  war  whupped  when  Pa  got  inter  troubl'  'ith 


94  AN  IDYL   OF  "  8IXEIN'   MOVST'IS." 

the  law  an'  we  had  ter  sell  all  ter  pay  out.  Th'  Lord 
maybe  did  pervide,  but  hit 's  be'n  mighty  hard  livin' 
sence." 

"  Hush,  Ezekiel  ! "  the  woman  whispered.  "  Hit  's 
blaspheemy !  Leave  hit  erlone ;  th'  righteous  '11 
never  beg  bread ;  leave  hit  erlone.  Th'  han'  thet  kin 
split  mount'ins  kin  pervide  fur  hits  own." 

The  light  had  come  back  to  the  weary  face,  and  it 
was  almost  beautiful  in  its  new  faith  as  she  turned 
humbly  and  went  about  her  household  duties.  But 
Dorinda,  watching  her,  thought  that  her  step  was 
feebler  than  she  had  ever  seen  it. 

"  Ann'  Betsey,"  she  said,  putting  her  arm  upon  her 
shoulder,  "  don't  yuh  give  up." 

"  Give  up  ?  No,  deary ;  I  ain't  er-givin'  up.  But  ef 
ther  Lord  hed  er  tuck  us  las'  night,  I  would  n'  er 
lifted  a  finger  ter  hender  him.  Hit  warn't  his  will, 
D'rindy,  an'  I  'm  willin'  ter  wait." 

It  was  a  gloomy  day  for  Raccoon  Hollow.  Ezek 
iel,  under  the  lingering  pains  of  his  old  misfortune 
and  the  new,  wandered  about  disconsolate,  and  when 
morning  dawned  again  the  last  of  the  Sykes'  meal 
went  into  pones  of  bread. 

The  mystery  of  the  mountain  spread  far  and  near. 
The  day  upon  which  the  fortunes  of  the  Sykes  family 
seemed  at  their  lowest  ebb  was  signalized  by  the  arrival 
of  an  excursion  party  from  The  Falls.  Ten  or  twelve 
ladies  and  gentlemen  on  horseback  and  in  vehicles 


AN  IDYL   OF  "S1NKIN*   MOUNT' IX."  95 

rode  over  to  see  the  wonder,  bringing  a  well-ordered 
lunch.  They  chattered  over  the  catastrophe,  climbed 
the  mountain,  and  presently  the  ladies  rendezvoused 
at  the  little  house.  Here  the  lunch  was  spread,  and 
Dorinda  brought  water  from  the  spring  and  rendered 
many  little  kindly  services.  After  lunch  the  party 
swarmed  unceremoniously  over  the  premises,  includ 
ing  Dorinda's  little  room,  which  delighted  them  as 
much,  probably,  as  the  mountain  interested.  Especial 
attention  was  devoted  by  the  ladies  to  the  delicate 
traceries  upon  the  mica  frame,  to  which  EzekiePs 
photograph  had  been  carefully  restored.  A  hand 
some,  grave  young  gentleman  was  asked  to  examine 
it.  He  did  so,  and  turning  to  Dorinda,  whose  cheeks 
flushed,  perhaps  by  the  praise  already  bestowed, 
asked : 

"  Where  did  that  mica  come  from?" 

"  Well,  now,  is  n't  that  just  like  Captain  Moore ! " 
exclaimed  one  of  the  ladies.  "  We  were  not  talking 
about  the  mica,  sir,  but  the  tracings." 

He  smiled.  "  The  tracings  have  great  merit,"  he 
said ;  "  but  there  is  more  money  in  mica  that  will 
split  into  such  large  clear  sheets  than  in  all  the  art 
that  can  be  put  upon  it.  You  say  that  you  found  it 
near  here  ? "  This  to  Dorinda. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  will  you  go  with  me  to  see  it  in  the  morning, 
if  I  return  ? " 


96  AN  IDYL   OF  "SINKIN'   HOUXT'IN." 

"  Yes,  sir,  ef  yuh  wants  me,  an'  th'  mountain  hain't 
sunk  'ith  hit."  The  party  began  to  prepare  for  de 
parture.  Presently  there  was  a  brief  consultation 
among  the  gentlemen  ;  then  as  some  were  galloping 
away  one  of  them  approached  Mrs.  Sykes  and  poured 
a  handful  of  small  silver  into  her  hand.  "  For  your 
kind  attentions/'  he  said.  Before  she  comprehended 
he  mounted  and  galloped  away,  leaving  her  speech 
less  with  surprise  and  emotion.  Ezekiel  came  out 
of  the  wood  where  he  had  concealed  his  disfigure 
ment  all  day,  and  there  on  the  porch  he  and  Dorinda 
found  her  sitting.  Tears  were  running  down  her 
cheeks,  and  she  made  no  effort  to  restrain  them. 
She  held  out  the  hand  blessed  with  so  much  silver. 

"  Ezekiel,"  she  said,  and  then  her  eyes  lifted  upward 
and  finished  the  sentence.  He  comprehended. 

"  Yes,  Ma,"  he  said  gently,  "  yuh  ar7  right  an'  I  ar7 
wrong,  es  ox3  most  commonly  true."  But  the  girl  put 
her  arms  around  her  and  kissed  the  wrinkled  cheeks 
in  silence. 

Early  the  next  day  sensitive  Ezekiel  took  to  shelter 
again,  for  Captain  Moore  kept  his  promise.  Ezekiel 
was  hidden  on  the  mountain,  from  which  he  beheld 
the  gentleman  and  Dorinda  pick  their  way  across  the 
rift  to  the  far  side.  It  was  a  difficult  journey,  and 
though  the  girl  was  as  agile  as  a  deer,  Ezekiel  noticed 
with  a  queer  pain  at  his  heart  that  the  stranger 
insisted  upon  extending  his  hand  to  her  every  time 
occasion  offered,  and  that  it  was  always  accepted. 


m 


'Look  out  above  voiir  bowlder,  Ezekiel." 


AN  IDYL   OF  "SISKIN'   MOUNT' IN."  97 

"  Dad  blast  th»  feUer !  »  he  said  :  "  he  'd  better  git 
her  ter  help  him,  stidder  him  er-helpin'  her." 

The  girl  was  in  a  particularly  merry  mood.  Did 
she  suspect  that  the  single  eye  of  the  disfigured 
doctor  was  npon  her?  She  was  a  woman,  and  the 
curious  can  argue  the  conclusion.  Her  laughter 
rang  out  across  the  rift,  and  he  found  himself  angry 
and  uncomfortable  generally.  Heigh-ho,  Ezekiel 
Sykes  !  You  cannot  understand  nature  after  all,  can 
you  ?  See  that  leap  she  has  just  made,  her  hair  flying 
and  poke-bonnet  waving.  How  beautifully  done! 
The  gentleman  does  not  follow  —  ah,  but  he  does, 
and  she  beams  npon  his  success.  Look  out  above 
your  bowlder,  Ezekiel,  with  your  one  capable  eye, 
and  mutter  "  Dad  blast  him ! "  as  much  as  you 
please ;  they  are  not  concerned  about  you. 

The  mica  was  found  more  than  ever  uncovered  by 
the  slide ;  a  wonderful  seam  it  was,  hemmed  in  by 
quartz.  The  gentleman  said  little,  but  was  evidently 
deeply  interested.  Finally  he  ascertained,  by  casual 
questions,  that  the  ownership  was  vested  in  Mrs. 
Sykes.  But  the  next  day  he  came  again,  and  again 
the  girl  accompanied  him.  He  was  tiying  to  follow 
the  vein.  And  the  history  of  one  day  was  as  the 
history  of  its  predecessor,  even  down  to  Ezekiel. 

But  at  last,  standing  over  the  mica,  the  captain 
and  the  girl  held  a  long  and  earnest  conversation. 
Ezekiel  saw  her  give  him  her  hand  impulsively, 
and  they  came  back,  her  face  flushed,  her  eyes 


98  AN  IDYL   OF  "SINKIN'  MOUNT' IN." 

sparkling.  The  truth,  as  it  appeared  to  Ezekiel,  was 
unmistakable,  and  he  was  full  of  rage  when  he  saw 
the  stranger  depart  and  Dorinda  wave  her  bonnet  in 
response  to  a  wave  of  his  hat.  But  alas  for  Ezekiel ; 
there  was  no  time  for  questions.  A  second  large 
party  had  come  up  from  The  Falls  and  swarmed  over 
the  place,  and  back  into  the  friendly  shadows  of  the 
mountain  the  young  man  carried  his  poulticed  ear 
and  picturesque  scars.  "When  this  party  left,  the 
trustful  and  hospitable  old  lady  was  again  blessed 
with  coin. 

So  ran  the  summer  away;  but  ere  it  had  ended, 
the  little  home,  or  "  Aunt  Betsey's,"  as  it  had  come  to 
be  known,  became  a  regular  rendezvous  for  visitors, 
who  got  there  midday  meals,  bought  strings  of  bead- 
corn,  posies  of  gay  flowers,  and  queer  bits  of  quartz  and 
mica  with  delicate  traceries  upon  the  latter.  The  cow 
and  chickens  had  come  back ;  the  pigs,  too,  returned ; 
yes,  and  the  bee-hives.  And  everything  about  the 
yard  straightened  up,  as  with  new  life,  from  their 
leaning  attitudes.  From  the  rafters  of  the  kitchen 
were  hung  yarns  and  provisions  and  shoes  for  the 
long  winter,  and  scores  of  other  articles  for  home 
use ;  and  on  the  shelves  were  bolts  of  cloth,  canned 
goods,  and  all  the  necessaries  of  life.  Dorinda's  gown 
was  as  nice  as  anybody's.  The  smile  of  God  seemed 
to  rest  upon  Raccoon  Hollow  and  the  riven  mountain. 


V. 

How  was  it  with  Ezekiel  ?  The  clouds  still  hung 
low.  The  intuition  of  the  young  woman  had  placed 
her  in  possession  of  his  secret  before  he  knew  that  he 
had  one,  and  with  the  perversity  of  her  sex  she  turned 
the  tables  upon  him.  Her  smiles  were  distributed 
among  the  tourists,  and  she  learned  to  give  keen  an 
swers  to  their  good-humored  banterings.  Often  he 
had  tried  to  tell  her  of  his  misery,  but  with  the  train 
ing  she  had  been  receiving  from  the  beaux  and  co 
quettes,  he  was  no  match  for  her.  One  day  she  went 
to  him  with  a  great  secret. 

"  O  Zeke ! "  she  said,  "  I  ar'  er-goin'  ter  tell  yuh 
suthin'.  Th'  parson  war  erlong  ter-day,  an'  tickled 
nigh  unter  death.  He  do  say  hit 's  all  er  joke  erbout 
Sal  Boler's  gittin'  j'ined  to  thet  ar  city  feller,  which 
war  er  drummer  an'  er-foolin'  yuh.  Th'  parson  say 
es  how  hit  7s  all  over  Calliny,  an'  folks  es  er-torkin 
erbout  '  Zeke  Sykes's  los'  widderV'  She  held  her 
sides,  and  followed  up  the  information  with  a  most 
provoking  spasm  of  mirth.  Ezekiel  gasped  for  breath. 
His  voice  was  hoarse  when  he  spoke  at  last. 

"  Th'  parson  tole  yuh  ? " 


100  AX  IDYL    OF  "SINKIN'  HOUNT'IN." 

"On  course.  He  come  straight  from  Sal's,  an'  she 
tole  'im  'ith  her  own  mouth.  Now  yuh  kin  go  back,  an' 
Sal  kin  be  '  Mistis  Ezekiel  Sykes  down  een  Raccoon 
Holler.' "  There  was  just  the  faintest  tremor  in  her 
voice,  but  Ezekiel  was  beyond  the  comprehension  of 
fine  shadings  then.  She  had  expected  an  outburst ; 
there  was  none.  The  young  man  walked  off,  and  the 
signs  were  unmistakable ;  he  was  crushed. 

"  Zeke,  are  yuh  hurted  bad  sure  'nough  ? "  she  called 
after  him  repentantly.  He  made  no  reply.  When  he 
came  back  later  she  was  sitting  on  the  steps. 

"Ma,"  he  said,  "I  >m  er-goin'  ter  Th'  Falls,  an' 
maybe  I  won't  come  back  'n  er  week;  an'  maybe 
hit  '11  be  two.  They  do  say  es  how  thar  ar'  more 
chance  fur  mount'in  men  in  Alabam',  an'  I  'm  er-git- 
tin'  sorter  worrit  down  here.  I  '11  tork  ter  yuh  when 
I  'm  done  torkin'  ter  them  thet  knows.  Thar  be 
some  erbout  Th'  Falls  now  thet  knows."  He  kissed 
her  cheek,  an  odd  caress  for  Ezekiel,  and  affected  not 
to  see  her  anxious  look. 

"  Good-bye,  D'rindy,"  he  said,  as  he  passed  her  on 
the  steps.  "  New  Men's  es  better  'n  ole  frien's."  A 
great  lump  rose  in  the  girl's  throat ;  she  could  not 
speak.  He  passed  through  the  gateway  and  took  the 
road  that  led  to  The  Falls,  walking  listlessly.  She 
watched  him  for  a  moment,  then  rose  and  darted  after 
him,  her  light  step  giving  out  scarcely  a  sound.  If 
he  heard,  he  made  no  sign.  Presently  she  laid  a  hand 


AN  IDYL   OF  "SIXKfX'   JfOPlVT'IAV  101 

upon  his  shoulder,  and  then  he  turned  and  looked 
down  into  the  violet  eyes,  while  a  trembling  seized 
him. 

"  Zeke,"  she  said,  a  little  smile  quivering  upon  her 
lips,  "  when  yuh  git  ter  Alabam'  won't  yuh  write  er 
letter?" 

"  One  writes  ter  yuh  now,  an'  one  es  ernough." 
He  blurted  the  words  out  and  drew  from  under  her 
touch. 

"  O  Zeke  !  "  She  looked  at  him  with  such  reproach 
that  he  was  half  ashamed.  Then  she  laughed,  point 
ing  her  finger  at  him.  "  Zeke,  I  do  berlieve  yuh  er- 
slippin'  off  ter  court  Sal  Boler  ergin."  She  bent 
almost  double  with  the  idea. 

"  No,  I  be  n't,"  he  said  hoarsely. 

"  Yuh  ar>,  Zeke.  Yuh  ar5 !  An'  O  Zeke,  ef  yuh  be, 
look  out  fur  drummers  on  th'  road  ! " 

He  turned  and  strode  off  without  a  word  more. 
She  leaned  her  back  against  a  tree  weak  with  laugh 
ing,  her  feet  thrust  out  in  front.  Presently  she 
called  him. 

"Zeke!"  He  turned  and  glared  back  at  her  in 
silence.  "  Zeke  Sykes,"  she  continued,  "  yuh  ar7  er 
bigger  fool  'n  I  seen  this  year,  an'  thar  's  be'n  some 
big  ones  'round  hyar,  th'  Lord  knows."  Her  face 
was  flushed  and  she  held  out  her  arms.  "  Zeke,  take 
me  erlong  ter  Alabam',  won't  yuh  ? "  He  came  back 
doubting,  but  the  arms  were  not  lowered,  and  into 


102  AN  IDYL    OF  "SIXEIN'   MOUNTAIN." 

them  he  walked,  speechless  with  the  change  from 
despair  to  happiness.     He  held  her  a  long  time. 
"  D'rindy,"  he  said,  "  an7  yuh  love  me  arter  all?" 
"Yes,  an'  afo'  all  —  fom  th'  fus'  time  when  yuh 
used  ter  tote  me  on  yuh  back  over  ther  rocks.     O 
Zeke !   I  hain't  never  loved  nobody  else  in  th'  whole 
worl'  but  yuh."     Tears  crept  from  under  the  half- 
closed   eyelids,  and  then    there  was   silence    as    he 
pressed  her  close  to  him. 

"Well,"  said  Ezekiel  finally,  "I  war  er  fool  mos' 
trooly." 

Two  more  incidents  close  the  idyl  of  "  Sinkin' 
Mount'in,"  as  Zeke's  sign-board  at  the  fork  of  the 
roads  has  it.  The  captain's  letters,  spelled  out  with 
much  labor,  gave  assurance  of  a  sale  of  the  mica 
deposit  at  a  good  price.  This  is  one.  The  other  is : 
In  the  closing  hours  of  the  season,  Ezekiel,  wander 
ing  about  the  hotels,  met  face  to  face  the  drummer 
who  had  made  him  a  jest  throughout  one  corner  of 
Carolina.  He  spoke  not  a  word,  but  kept  his  eye  on 
the  practical  joker  until  he  had  drawn  his  own  arms 
entirely  free  of  that  fatal  coat  and  dropped  it  to  the 
earth.  Then  he  slapped  his  thigh. 

"  Stranger,"  he  said,  "  yuh  be  er-lookin'  on  Ezekiel 
Obadiah  Sykes." 

A  smile  came  to  the  other's  face. 

"  Ah ! "  said  he.     "  '  Natur's  doctor.' " 


^V  IDYL   OF  "  8INEIN*  MOUNT 'IN."  103 

"  Th'  same.  Stranger,  Sal  Boler's  husbun7  thet 
wa'n't  ar7  go  in'  ter  git  whupped  een  erbout  two  min- 
nuts."  He  launched  forth  with  a  mighty  sub-binder, 
and  —  well,  truth  is  truth  —  the  next  instant  was 
knocked  off  his  feet  flat  on  his  back.  Rising  to  a 
sitting  position,  stunned,  dizzy,  and  astounded,  he 
gazed  a  moment  up  into  the  smiling  face  of  the  scien 
tific  boxer  above  him. 

"  Ezekiel,"  he  said  to  himself  softly,  "  Ezekiel  Sykes, 
yuh  be  er  dinged  fool  mos'  trooly."  Slowly  picking 
up  his  coat,  he  turned  his  back  on  the  assembling 
crowd  and  took  the  road  for  Raccoon  Hollow.  As  he 
approached  the  house  after  his  long  journey  the 
humor  of  the  situation  overcame  him,  and  he  chuckled 
quietly  to  himself. 

a  rpk?  f eiier  fog,  fu]j  er  sub-binders  es  er  hog  be  full 
er  fleas,"  he  said  ;  and  then  as  Sinking  Mountain  rose 
before  him  he  added,  cocking  one  eye  and  coming  to 
a  standstill :  "  Hit  ain't  onpossible  thet  it  war  th' 
same  chap  busted  thet  ar  mount'in  ! " 


"OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART." 
I. 

HAD  reached  the  ridge  by  such  gradual 
ascents  that  I  scarcely  realized  how  high 
it  was.  The  last  single  bird  my  dog  had 
set  passed  straight  away  over  the  top, 
trailing  a  broken  leg ;  and  partly  to  seek 
him,  and  partly  to  reach  a  point  from  which  I  might 
locate  the  railroad  whence  in  the  early  morning  I 
had  wandered,  I  followed  the  route  he  chose.  At 
the  top  I  found  myself  upon  an  old  bastion,  one  of 
the  few  visible  footprints  of  war,  for  Macon  was  not 
many  miles  away,  and  here,  but  for  the  armistice  that 
followed  Appomattox,  Wilson  would  have  met  an 
armed  foe  instead  of  a  flag  of  truce. 

The  scene  before  me  was  transcendently  beautiful. 
An  undulating  plain  lay  spread  at  my  feet,  and  ten 
miles  away  the  blue  hills  rose  up  again  and  hemmed 
it  in.  This  plain  was  dotted  here  and  there  with 
cabins  —  the  mansions  were  nearly  all  gone.  The 
exceptions  stood  forth  in  the  distance  —  white  homes 

104 


"  OLE  MISS"   AND   "SWEETHEART."  105 

studding  the  green  slopes.  Curving  round  the  base 
of  my  hill  ran  the  steel  bands  of  the  railroad,  and 
not  two  miles  away  I  saw  the  station. 

The  sun  with  me  was  shining  with  a  fierce  glare, 
and  I  wondered  at  the  cheerful  song  of  the  negroes 
near  at  hand,  picking  cotton  from  the  white  rows 
which  stood  in  ranks  about  the  abandoned  fort.  But 
away  off  straight  ahead  a  broad  shadow  lay  upon  the 
plain  over  which  the  clouds  swept  grandly  eastward, 
and  ten  miles  to  the  right  I  saw  the  trailing  rain 
rushing  across  a  darkened  belt  of  woods.  From  this 
cooling  spot  the  wind  came  with  a  delicious  touch. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  a  boy,  whose  labors  had  brought 
him  abreast  of  me,  "  dere  's  a  spring  down  yonner." 

He  pointed  to  where  on  the  plain  two  great  Lom- 
bardy  poplars  lifted  their  boughs  skyward,  and 
thither,  with  almost  parched  lips,  down  the  steep 
gravelly  slopes  I  moved. 

As  I  approached  nearer  the  two  poplars,  I  saw  that 
they  stood  to  the  right  and  left  of  a  plantation  bur 
ial-ground,  whose  rocky  wall  was  overgrown  with 
ivy,  and  interior  with  weeds.  Beyond,  two  desolate- 
looking  chimneys  reared  themselves  in  a  clump  of 
cedars,  the  nearest  trees  blackened  and  dead,  as  if 
from  the  touch  of  flames.  My  dog,  with  his  nose  in 
air,  ran  into  the  inclosure,  and  stood  upon  a  "point." 
Passing  under  the  poplars,  I  followed,  with  my  gun 
ready ;  but  nothing  rose,  and  after  one  or  two  hesi- 


106  "OLE  MISS"   AND   "SWEETHEART" 

tating  starts,  he  pounced  upon  a  dead  bird  and 
brought  it  to  my  feet.  It  had  flown  until  its  life 
was  exhausted. 

Then  I  noticed  that  the  graves  about  me  were 
marked  by  slabs,  and  on  them  I  read  the  record  of 
many  Cassels  who  were  "born"  and  who  "died" 
according  to  the  dates  opposite  these  respective  an 
nouncements.  But  one  grave  differed  in  its  appoint 
ments.  It  bore  the  simple  words  "  Old  Miss/'  and  was 
as  white  and  clean  as  if  laid  but  yesterday.  There 
was  no  date,  no  epitaph ;  only  the  white  slab  and  the 
legend  "  Old  Miss."  As  I  studied  it  curiously  a  gaudy 
lizard  came  from  the  weeds  upon  the  hot  stone,  and 
questioned  me  with  his  bright  eyes. 

Passing  out,  I  saw,  a  short  way  off,  beneath  the 
low,  wide-spreading  limbs  of  a  black-gum,  a  cabin, 
and  the  red  and  blue  turbans  of  two  negro  women. 
The  dog  had  already  announced  my  presence,  and 
hurried  on  to  the  spring,  guided  by  an  unerring 
instinct.  A  little  darky  in  one  short  garment  peeped 
from  behind  his  grandmammy, where  he  had  fled  from 
the  brute's  cold,  inquisitive  nose,  and  as  I  approached, 
the  eyes  of  all  three  were  turned  upon  me. 

"  Yes,  sah,"  one  of  the  women  replied,  putting  aside 
a  bread-tray,  into  which  she  was  shelling  pease ;  "  en 
hit 's  good  water,  too.  Set  down,  sah,  tell  I  fetch  er 
gourd." 

"  No,  sah,  don't  nobody  live  heah  'cep'n'  me  en  de 


"OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART."  107 

chillun,"  said  the  other,  who  had  respectfully  taken 
her  cob  pipe  from  her  mouth  and  laid  it  aside.  A 
pair  of  bright  little  eyes  regarded  me  kindly  from 
under  a  pair  of  enormous  silver-rimmed  spectacles, 
which  had  been  pushed  up  over  her  forehead  and 
were  blankly  studying  the  sky.  The  voice  was  low 
and  peculiarly  gentle.  "  De  Cass'ls  used  ter  live  heah 
tell  der  war  dimmed  on,  den  dey  uz  mos'ly  killed 
up ;  en  den  de  yarmy  cum  erlong  en  bu'nt  de  place. 
En  Ole  Miss  died."  She  looked  at  me  curiously  as  she 
asked,  suddenly,  "  Does  you  know  any  uv  de  f  ambly  ? " 

"  No ;  but  I  saw  a  grave  up  yonder,  with  '  Old 
Miss '  cut  on  it." 

The  old  face  took  on  a  new  light  as  I  spoke.  I 
began  to  recognize  the  old  "mammy"  of  an  ante 
bellum  Southern  home. 

"  Yes,  sah,  we  alls  used  to  call  7er  dat,  'cause  she 
wuz  Marse  Alleck's  widder;  en  atter  while  Young 
Miss  cum  erlong.  Hit 's  er  pity  you  did  n'  know  Ole 
Miss.  Lord,  Lord,  but  she  uz  er  lady  fum  erway 
back ! » 

"Dat  she  wuz,"  interpolated  the  younger  woman, 
who  stood  by  while  I  drank  the  cooling  draught  from 
her  long-handled  gourd.  "  None  er  dese  heah  hifa- 
lutin'  kind  ;  no,  sah.  She  uz  es  tall  'mos'  es  you,  en 
es  straight  es  er  In  gin,  w'ich  uz  natchul,  fur  she  cum 
fum  Firginny,  en  dey  do  say  one  uv  'er  great-grand 
ma's  wuz  pure  Ingin  herse'f." 


108  "OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART." 

The  dog,  having,  after  the  fashion  of  setters,  cooled 
himself  in  the  spring,  was  stretched  upon  the  ground, 
watching  me  with  half-shut  eyes.  The  shade  was 
refreshing  and  the  rest  welcome.  I  settled  down  in 
the  white-oak  chair,  while  the  young  woman  resumed 
her  pea-shelling,  and  let  the  garrulous  old  mammy 
continue  with  her  memories.  The  show  of  attention 
was  a  small  price  to  pay  for  the  relaxation  of  limbs 
in  this  cool  shade. 

The  speaker  continued  slowly :  "  But  Ole  Miss  uz 
er  lady,  en  er  fine  lady  at  dat,  fum  de  time  Ole  Mars- 
ter  fetch  'er  down  heah  in  de  kerridge,  wid  es  grays 
jes'  er-prancin',  tell  she  uz  laid  out  up  yonner  by  'im, 
dead.  Nobody  nev'r  saw  'er  when  she  warn't  dressed 
up  like  she  uz  er-goin'  ter  er  party.  En  lace !  Well, 
sah,  up  ter  de  las'  ole  silk  dress  she  had  lef  wuz  split- 
tin'  in  de  creases  she  had  real  lace  caps  en  collars, 
en  lace  on  'er  sleeves  en  han'kerchiffs.  Wen  she 
warked  she  jes'  sorter  move  erlong  wid  'er  he'd  'way 
up  yonner,  en  did  n't  look  like  she  uz  er-stepp'n'  at  all. 
Nobody  nev'r  knowed  'er  ter  laf  out  loud  ;  but  she  'd 
smile  de  sweetes',  en  'er  voice  uz  sof ,  like  de  win'  out 
yonner  in  de  pines.  But  dat  uz  w'en  she  uz  at  peace 
wid  uz  all ;  but  jus'  you  let  'er  git  riled — en  et  took 
er  heap  ter  rile  'er,  lemme  tell  you  —  en  'er  eyes  'u'd 
dance,  en  'er  words  cut  de  arr  like  de  oberseer's  whup 
on  er  bad  nigger's  back.  'T  wus  de  same  way  w'en  she 
uz  er  gal.  But  kind  en  good !  Lord  !  I  seen  'er  menny 


"OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART."  1Q9 

er-time  go  down  dem  back  steps  en  set  up  over  yon- 
ner  in  de  quarters  wid  er  sick  nigg'r  all  night  long, 
er-doin;  fur  'er  like  she  uz  white  en  kin  ;  en  she  wid 
'er  silks  en  laces  on  too !  You  know  den  dere  warn't 
nail0  nigg'r  on  de  place  but  'd  er  died  fur  Ole  Miss ;  en 
well  dey  might,  fur  God  knows  she  uz  er  good  ooman, 
en  had  seen  er  heap  er  trubbl'.  Ef  had  n't  er  been  fur 
de  baby,  I  don't  reck'u  she  'd  er  held  out  es  long  es 
she  did." 

"  So  there  was  a  baby  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sah.  You  see,"  she  continued,  "  Marse  Frank 
uz  erbout  all  de  Cass'ls  dat  uz  lef.  Wen  he  uz  killed 
up  yonner  at  —  at  —  watcher  call  it  ?  —  Getty " 

"  Gettysburg  ? " 

''Yes,  sah.  Wen  Marse  Frank  uz  killed,  ev'y- 
body  sed  de  race  uz  gone ;  but  bime-by  er  little  gal 
cum,  en  'er  ma  en  Ole  Miss  all  fell  ter  cryin',  en  dey 
gave  'er  her  pa's  name.  But  'er  ma  called  'er  Sweet 
heart,  en  so  ev'ybody  got  ter  callin'  her  dat." 

"  En  I  reck'n,"  said  Mandy,  "  nair7  nuther  baby  like 
'er  nev'r  lived." 

"  You  see,"  said  the  first  speaker,  whose  memories 
had  been  stirred,  "  Mandy  heah  used  ter  nuss  'er, 
'cause  her  ma  uz  weak  en  sickly ;  but  nuth'n'  'u'd  do 
but  I  mus'  tu'n  gal  ergin  en  ten'  dat  baby.  Dat  uz 
'er  gran'ma's  noshun  —  Miss  Carrie  warn't  nuth'n'  but 
er  gal  'erself  w'en  Marse  Frank  tuk  'er  right  out  uv 
er  ballroom  en  fetch  'er  heah.  But  she  uz  er  lady  down 
10 


HO  "OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART." 

ter  'er  heels,  en  es  good,  en  had  es  good  er  heart,  es 
de  bes'.  Only  she  did  n't  know  nuth'n'  'bout  babies, 
en  me  en  all  de  fambly,  fum  Ole  Miss  on,  had  ter  he'p. 
But 't  warn't  'er  fault  the  baby  died." 

"  Died  ? " 

"  Yes,  sah ;  hit  died.  I  know'd  fum  de  fust  what 
uz  er-goin'  ter  happ'n.  Sumtime  hit  look  ter  me 
like  er  baby  es  er  heap  old'r  'n  hit  is.  Dis  wun  uz 
er-laughin'  en  er-erow'ii'  'fo'  hit  uz  er  week  ole,  en  I 
told  Mandy  den  dat  hit  uz  er  bad  sign.  Cry?  No, 
sah.  En  she  know'd  folks  by  deir  names.  Ef  enny- 
body  'd  say,  '  Mammy/  she  set  eyes  on  me  ;  en  ef  dey 
call  er  ma's  name,  she  'd  tu'n  roun'  en  look  like  she  uz 
er-lis'nin'.  One  night  I  wake  up,  en  she  uz  er-lay'n' 
dere  laugh'n'  en  er-calPn'  i  Papa ' ;  en  hit  look  ter  me 
like  she  uz  er-talk'n'  ter  sumbody  wot  uz  wid  'er  ;  but 
dey  wuz  n't  nobody  dere,  en  'er  pa  uz  de'd  en  buried 
'mos'  two  years  back.  Lord !  Lord !  but  de  chile's 
ways  did  worry  me ;  en  I  know'd  w'at  uz  cummin'. 
Wen  she  1'arnt  ter  say  '  Mamma,'  look  ter  me  like 
Miss  Carrie  'u'd  kiss  'er  ter  def ;  en  den  she  'u'd  cry 
en  say, '  Ef  'er  pa  c'u'd  only  hev  lived  ! '  En  den  she  'd 
hug  de  baby  en  GYJ  ergin." 

"  Miss  Carrie  uz  er  mighty  good  ooman,"  said 
Mandy,  pouring  her  pease  into  a  basket,  and  replen 
ishing  her  tray  from  the  unshelled  stock — "  er  mighty 
good  ooman." 

"  Dat  she  wuz — es  good  es  de  bes'.   En  dat  chile  ?  — 


"OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART."  m 

look  like  hit  uz  her  life.  Young  marster,  I  reck'n 
you  don't  know  nuthin'  'bout  babies,  en  can't  tell ; 
but  I  'tended  Ole  Miss,  en  Ole  Miss's  ehillun,  en  dey 
chillun  too,  en  I  tell  you  sumtiraes  dere  cum  erlong 
one  w'at  's  goin'  ter  'stonish  ev'ybody ;  en  dis  uz  de 
wun  in  de  Cass'l  fambly.  Hit  warn't  menny  munts 
'fo'  hit  'u'd  lay  erwake  in  de  night,  en  talk  en  talk  like 
grow'd-up  folks,  but  nobody  uz  dere'bouts  'cep'n'  me 
en  Young  Miss,  en  she  uz  mos'  generly  ersleep  ;  en, 
bless  yo'  soul,  honey !  I  warn't  goin'  ter  wake  'er  up ; 
hit  'u'd  cum  soon  ernuff.  'T  ain't  fur  me  ter  say  who 
dat  chile  uz  er-talkin'  ter,  but  dere  uz  sumbody  dere 
wid  'er,  en  I  kivered  up  my  he'd  many  er  time,  'cause 
I  nev'r  know'd  w'at  dey  might  er  wanted  ter  say. 
Warn't  nobody  gwine  ter  hu't  dat  chile,  do'.  En  den 
ter  heah  'er  sing  '  la  !  la  !  la  ! '  en  '  la !  la !  la  ! ' —  sorter 
prac's'n'  like !  Psha !  I  tole  Mandy  den  po'  Miss 
Carrie  uz  goin'  ter  see  trouble.  Hit  warn't  natchul 
fur  er  baby  ter  nev'r  cry,  en  ter  be  er-talkin'  ter  'erse'f 
in  de  night-time.  En  Ole  Miss  uz  sorter  worr'd  'bout 
et  too,  only  she  would  n't  let  on  dat  she  wuz.  One 
day,"  she  continued,  after  reaching  over  to  shove  a 
chunk  under  the  kettle  boiling  near  at  hand — "one 
day  she  uz  er-layin'  dere  singin'  w'en  er  yaller  butt'r- 
fly  cum  in  de  room,  en  dance  erbout  tell  'e  find  'er. 
He  sorter  balunce  roun'  'er  er  minit,  en  sudden  like 
she  stop  en  look  et  hit  wi'  dem  big  brown  eyes.  En 
den  de  butt'rfly  look  at  her,  stan'in'  on  de  piller  en 


112  "OLE  MISS"  AND    "SWEETHEART" 

er-movin'  es  wings  up  en  down,  so," — she  gave  a  capi 
tal  representation  of  the  movement, — "  en  den  he 
dance  roun'  en  go  out  de  winder  ergin.  Well,  sah, 
dat  chile  jes'  lay  dere  lookin'  at  dat  winder,  en  bime- 
by  she  sorter  smile  er  liT,  en  'er  eyes  shot,  en  she  uz 
ersleep  'fo'  you  could  er  tu'ned  roun'.  Jes;  'bout  dat 
time  er  mock'n'-burd  fly  down  by  de  winder,  and  sing 
tell  I  hatter  go  en  run  em  erway.  Sum  folks  don't 
take  notus  uv  signs  en  warnin's,"  she  continued,  look 
ing  at  me  cautiously,  "  but  dere  ain'  nuthin'  kin  keep 
ole  mammy  fum  b'lieviu'  dere  uz  more  in  dat  den  er 
stray  butt'rfly  projec'n'  roun'."  She  paused  just  long 
enough  to  bestow  a  whack  upon  the  little  darky  for 
"  chunkin' "  chips  at  the  dog.  "  Ain'  menny  munts 
pass  'fo'  dat  baby  start  ter  walkin',  en  den  we  had  et, 
sho  nuff.  Look  like  she  did  n'  wanter  go  now'ere  but 
out  yonner  in  de  frunchard,  where  Ole  Miss's  flow'rs 
used  ter  wuz.  I  nev'r  seed  sech  a  chile  fur  flow'rs ; 
en  lemme  tell  you  I  tended  'em  all  fum  erway  back. 
She  ain'  pull  'em  like  nair'  nuth'r  wun  uv  em.  Now 
Marse  Frank  uz  putty  much  de  same  way  'bout  'em ; 
but  he  nev'r  lef  nuthin'  grow'n'  w'en  he  went  'long, 
but  'u'd  knock  down  ev'yt'ing  he  could  get  es  hands 
on ;  en  menny  's  de  time  I  seen  Ole  Miss  box  es  jaws 
'bout  et,  too,"  she  added,  shaking  silently  over  the 
far-away  picture.  "But  't  warn't  so  wid  de  baby. 
Sum  flow'rs  she  would  n'  tech  ter  save  yer.  She  'd 
paddle  right  erlong  by  de  pinks  en  de  jewrainyems 


"OLE  MISS"   AND    "SWEETHEART."  H3 

en  de  'santhymums,  en  stan'  up  under  er  ole  red  rose 
bush  en  tek  wun  down.  En  she  'd  pick  et  open,  en 
talk  en  talk  en  talk  tell  hit  'u'd  'mos'  run  me  crazy. 
En  fus'  sing  you  know,  yonner  she  'd  go  er-paddl'n' 
cl'ar  'cross  de  yard,  en  git  er  ole  mornin'-glory  en  talk 
ter  hit.  Need  n'  tell  me  dat  chile  did  n'  know  w'at  she 
uz  erbout !  En  nuthin'  would  n'  pest'r  'er  nuth'r.  I 
seen  'er  tek  er  bumble-bee  out'n  er  mornin'-glory 
menny  er  time,  en  hold  em  up  tell  he  'd  fly  off.  'Fear'd 
dey'd  sting  'er?  No,  sah.  Dey  know'd  'er,  en  she 
know'd  dem.  You  kin  laugh,  en  I  reck'n  hit's  hard 
fur  city  folks  ter  b'lieve,  but  hit 's  true.  En  de  hum- 
min'-burds  ?  Lord !  you  'd  er  laughed  sho'  nuff  ter 
seen  'em  sorter  draw  back  out'n  re'ch  uv  'er  han's  en 
look  'er  in  de  eye,  wid  deir  coats  er-shinin'  in  de  sun 
like  er  June-bug's  back.  En  butt'rflies  ?  Dey  'd  skip 
roun'  'er  all  de  time,  en  ef  she  had  shooger  in  'er 
han's — which  she  had  mighty  of'n,  'cause  Ole  Miss 
let  'er  go  ter  de  shooger-dish  'bout  when  she  wanted 
ter — dey'd  set  on  top  'er  fingers,  en  jes'  keep  out'n 
fum  betwix'  'em.  Nuthiii'  would  n'  hu't  dat  chile. 
No,  sah.  She  slip  off  one  day,  w'en  I  uz  er  sorter 
nodd'n'  out  dere  und'r  de  mulberry  by  de  kitchen,  en, 
bless  yo'  soul !  w'en  I  woke  up  she  uz  er-sett'n'  down 
frunt  er  ole  Bull,  er-pilin'  san'  on  es  he'd,  en  Bull  uz 
er-layin'  dere  wid  es  years  pull  back,  er-lett'n'  'er  do 
'bout  like  she  please.  Bad  ?  Yes,  sah.  Ain'  but  one 
nigg'r  on  de  place  could  tie  up  dat  dog,  en  he  wuz 


114  "OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART." 

'way  off  yonner  in  de  cott'n.  I  tell  you  dere  uz  s 
time  den,  'cause  Ole  Miss  had  dun  cum  out  on  de 
po'ch,  en  uz  er-care'in'  on  pow'ful.  Don't  make  nc 
diffunce  w'ere  dat  baby  wuz,  Ole  Miss  cum  erlong 
putty  soon.  En  hit  took  er  heap  er  talk'u'  ter  get  de 
baby  back,  'cause  ev'y  time  ennybody  went  dere,  Bui 
show'd  es  teef,  en  dat  uz  ernuff.  But  bime-by  she 
git  up  en  cum  off  by  'erse'f,  en  ole  Bull  sorter  lay  es 
he'd  down  on  one  foot,  en  sweep  de  groun'  behine  em 
wid  es  tail,  axin'  'er  es  plain  es  'e  could  talk  ter  cum 
back.  I  know'd  nuthin'  warn't  goin'  ter  hu't  dal 
chile. 

"  Yes,  sah,  she  kep'  well,  too,  'cep'n'  wid  'er  teef 
Dey  uz  mighty  hard  on  'er  fum  de  fus',  but  she  gil 
erlong  well  ernuff  tell  dem  eye-teef  reddy  ter  cum 
You  see,  Miss  Carrie  uz  er  town  gal,  en  ez  good  ei 
hearted  ooman  es  ev'r  lived, —  I  ain'  er-say'n'  nuth'n 
ergin  'er, — but  she  did  n't  know  nuth'n'  'bout  de 
Cass'l  babies ;  en  w'en  I  brought  er  string  er  wood- 
ants,  jes'  same  es  Marse  Frank  cut  teef  wid,  ter  hang 
'roun'  de  baby's  neck,  she  laf  'erse'f  'mos'  to  def,  en 
sed  we  uz  '  soopstishus  nigg'rs,'  en  she  would  n'  'lo'w 
no  sech  doin's  wid  her  baby.  En  w'en  Mandy  fetched 
er  string  er  snail-shells,  w'ich  es  mighty  good  dey 
sevs,  she  laffed  ergin,  en  give  'er  er  silver  quarter: 
but  she  would  n'  let  'em  go  on  de  baby  nuth'r.  Der 
ole  'Liza  cum  wun  day  wid  er  mole's  foot,  en  hil 
could  n'  go  dere  nuth'r.  En  w'en  Ole  Miss  wanted  ei 


"OLE  MISS"  AND    "SWEETHEART."  H5 

rabbit  killed  en  hits  brains  rubbed  on  de  baby's  gums, 
Lord !  but  sech  cryin'  en  care'in'  on  you  nev'r  seed 
sence  you  uz  born'd. 

"  Well,  so  hit  went;  en  one  day  I  seed  Miss  Carrie 
dancin'  de  baby  up  en  down  'fo'  de  lookin'-glass,  en 
dat  settP  et.  I  told  Mandy  den  dere  uz  er-goin' 
ter  be  troubl'  sho'.  Ain'  nuth'u'  hu't  me  wuss  'n  dat. 
I'd  dun  he?  in  tell  I  could n'  stan'  hit  no  long'r,  en 
wun  day  I  seed  Ole  Miss  er-watch'n'  de  chile  when 
she  tort  nobody  uz  erroun',  en  I  seed  fum  'er  face  she 
warn't  satusfied.  Den  I  sed,  look'n'  her  fair  in  de 
face,  'Ole  Miss,  dere's  sum'n'  wrong  wid  dis  hear 
chile,  en  you  ought  n'  ter  set  store  by  7er  too  much.' 
Bless  your  soul !  you  orter  seen  'er ;  she  shuk  all 
ov'r,  en  'er  face  tu'n  white. 

"  '  Hush  ! '  she  said,  so  loud  hit  like  ter  skeer'd  de 
life  out  er  me.  En  den  she  whispered,  '  No  !  no  !  no  ! 
dere's  sum  mussy  lef  in  Hebb'n  yet/  en  went  straight 
ter  'er  room.  Den  I  know'd  she  'd  dun  seen  hit  too. 

""Well,  sah,  troubl'  cum  right  erlong.  One  day 
w'en  I  had  been  ov'r  ter  de  Simkinses'  ter  see  my 
tuther  gal  w'at  'd  married  er  po'  sort  uv  er  nigg'r 
ov'r  dere  —  en  'e  ain'  no  better  now  'n  'e  wuz  den  — 
wud  cum  dat  de  baby  uz  mighty  sick,  en  Ole  Miss 
hed  sont  de  kerridge  fur  me.  Wen  I  got  dere  I 
foun'  Miss  Carrie  settin'  in  'er  room  wid  de  baby  in 
'er  lap,  en  'er  eyes  uz  sot  in  er  hard  look.  '  Mammy/ 
she  said,  jes'  es  cool  es  I'm  er-say'n'  hit  now,  'my 


116  "OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART." 

"baby  es  goin'  to  die.'  You  see,  hit  'u'd  dun  cum  ter 
'er  at  las'  jes'  like  hit  did  ter  me  at  fus'.  But  I  made 
blieve  she  uz  only  sorter  skeered,  en  tuk  de  baby. 
Hit  uz  er-bu'nin'  up  wid  fev'r.  Lord !  Lord !  how 
hit  all  curns  back !  She  used  ter  lay  'er  he'd  down  on 
my  shoulder  en  sleep  w'en  she  would  n'  sleep  no  uth'r 
way ;  en  w'en  I  tuk  'er  up,  she  jes'  say,  loud  ernuif 
ter  heah,  '  Mammy ' ;  en  I  say,  '  Yes,  honey,  mammy 
goin'  ter  stay  wid  yer.'  En  I  lay  'er  he'd  down  dere 
on  my  should'r.  Well,  sah,  she  uz  er  sick'r  chile  'n  I 
know'd ;  en  w'en  I  look'  at  'er,  I  nev'r  seed  sech  a 
change.  Movin'  'er  uz  too  much.  'Feared  ter  me  like 
she  uz  alreddy  de'd,  en  I  uz  er-lookin'  down  in  de 
grave  at  'er.  En  I  b'lieve  ef  I  had  n't  laid  'er  down 
mighty  quick,  she  would  er  died  right  dere.  En  all 
she  sed  uz  '  Mammy.'  Lord !  I ' ve  hyard  dat  wurd 
ev'r  sence — '  Mammy.' " 

The  old  woman  turned  to  the  fire  again,  and  made 
pretense  to  rearrange  the  chunks,  while  her  daughter 
bent  silently  over  the  tray.  Presently  she  resumed  : 

"  Dern  wuz  hard  times.  You  see,  we  ought'r  had 
er  heap  we  could  n'  git.  Quinine  uz  scyarce,  en 
munny  could  n'  buy  hit,  en  we  could  n'  bre'k  de  fev'r 
enny  uther  way.  En  ice  uz  scyarce  too.  Well,  we 
watched  en  tended,  tell  bime-by  de  doct'r  tuk  Miss 
Carrie  en  say  she  mus'  res' ;  en  by  dis  time  she  might 
es  well  res',  'cause  de  baby  didn'  know  nobody,  en 
we  all  could  do  fer  'er  heap  bett'r  'n  hits  ma.  So 


"  OLE  MISS"  AXD   "SWEETHEART."  HJ 

Miss  Carrie  went  erlong  upstairs  'mos'  de'd  'erse'f,  en 
I  promis'  'er  she  should  see  de  baby  'fo'  hit  die.  "Well, 
I  watch'  all  dat  night  en  nex'  day,  en  w'en  de  sun 
went  down  I  see  er  new  look  on  'er  face — a  hard, 
de'd  look — en  'er  han's  were  col'  en  stiff,  en  'er  eyes 
sot.  Den  I  went  up  ter  Miss  Carrie's  room,  'cause  I 
know'd  hit  wuz  time,  but  I  did  n'  say  uuthin'.  1 1 
know,'  she  said.  '  Lemrne  see  my  baby  wunst  mo'. ' 
En  all  I  could  do  uz  ter  cry  en  ter  he'p  'er  down 
stairs. 

"  "Well,  sah,  I  wuz  'stouished  den,  sho'  nuff,  ter  see 
how  she  tuk  hit.  I  uz  er-hold'n  'er  on  my  arm  ter 
keep  'er  fum  fall'n',  'cause  she  uz  mighty  sick  en 
weak  like  'erse'f.  She  did  n'  cry  en  care'  on,  but  jes' 
lif  'er  face  up  ov'r  de  baby  en  say,  sof  like,  '  Tek  'er, 
dear  Christ,  en  keep  'er  tell  I  cum.' 

"  '  Cum  now,  honey,'  says  I,  '  hit 's  ernuff,  hit 's  er- 
nuff.  He  '11  tek  kyar  uv  'er ;  don't  you  worry  'bout 
dat.'  En  so,  lean'n'  on  me,  she  tu'ned  to  go.  But  she 
ain't  tek  many  steps  'fo'  she  look  up  in  my  face  en 
say,  like  'er  heart  uz  break'n',  '  Mammy,  lemme  tell 
my  baby  good-night  —  lemme  tell  'er  good-night.' 
En  I  could  n'  er  he'p'd  et  ter  save  my  life.  Hit  uz  jes' 
dark  ernuff  fur  de  lamps,  en  wun  uz  bu'nin'  low.  We 
went  back,  en  she  ben'  down  dere  en  put 'er  face  close 
ter  de  baby,  en  did  n'  naif7  wun  uv  'em  move,  but  jes' 
staid  dere  face  ter  face.  We  all  tried  ter  look  tuth'r 
way,  'cause  hit  warn't  right  ter  watch  dem  two,  but 


118  "OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART." 

sumhow  I  could  n'.  En  so  at  las'  she  tuk  de  littl'  face 
in  'er  han's  en  call'd  'er  l  Sweetheart.'  But  dere  ain' 
no  word  cum  back.  En  so  she  said  ergin,  sof  like, 
'Sweetheart';  en  still  no  word.  Den  she  sed — en  I 
heah  de  wurds  er-moan'u'  in  dat  still  room  like  hit  uz 
yestiddy:  'Sweetheart,  mamma  's  cum  ter  tell  you 
good-night  —  good-night  en  good-bye.  You  es  goin' 
up  ter  God,  my  baby,  ter  Christ,  ter  sleep  in  es  arms, 
not  mine.  I  'm  goin'  ter  miss  yer,  baby,  but  yer  won't 
miss  me,  for  He  es  tend'r  —  oh,  yes,  He  es  tend'r, 
littl'  one;  en  papa  is  dere  ter  meet  yer  too.  Don't 
you  git  erfear'd  uv  de  dark,  Sweetheart.  You  won't 
be  by  yo'se'f.  Mammy  will  hoi'  wun  han'  tell  Jesus 
teks  de  yuther.  En  sum  day  —  O  God ! '  she  moan'd 
out,  tu'nin'  'er  he'd  erway  — '  sum  day,  darling,  I  'm 
goin'  ter  cum  too.  Good-bye  !  good-bye  !  good-bye ! ' 
she  kep'  on  er-sayin'  good-bye,  sof  like,  tell  I  could  n' 
heah  et,  fur  she  dun  got  cl'ar  down  wid  'er  cheek  ergin 
de  baby. 

"  Well,  sah,  de  proof  uz  dere.  Jes'  den  dat  chile 
cum  back  to  hits  body  fur  de  fus'  time  in  fo'  days. 
Hits  eyes  look  right  up  a  littl'  while,  en  den  hit  lif 
hits  lips  jes'  er  littl',  en  den  hits  ma  ben'  down  ergin 
en  tech  'em.  She  lif  'er  lips  dis  way  free  times,  en 
all  de  wimmin  cry  out,  en  I  shouted  too :  '  Hit  's 
God's  mussy ;  let  'er  go  now  !  Hit  's  God's  mussy ; 
let  'er  go  ! '  But  she  warn't  reddy  ter  go.  No,  sah ; 
she  look  dis  way  en  dat  way  wid  dem  big  eyes  sot 
on  me,  en  she  lif  'er  lips;  en  'er  ma  cry  out,  'Kiss 


"OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART."  H9 

'er,  mammy,  kiss  'er ;  she  wants  ter  tell  yer  good-bye.' 
En,  bless  yo'  soul !  I  down  on  my  knees  en  kiss  'er,  en 
den  'er  eyes  shet. 

"  En  Miss  Carrie,  wid  er  smile  on  'er  face,  en  stan'- 
in'  straight  en  strong,  lif  me  up  en  lead  me  ter  de  do', 
for  I  uz  all  broke  down  en  er-cryin'  like  ev'body  else. 
At  de  do'  she  tu'n  ergin  en  say,  jes'  es  sweet  like  es 
ev'r  she  talk  in  'er  life :  '  God  es  good  ter  me.  We  're 
goin'  ter  meet  ergin,  Sweetheart;  you  will  sleep  in 
mamma's  arms  ergin,  but  not  ter-night,  not  ter-night.' 
En  I  felt  'er  sorter  tremble  ergin  st  me. 

"  Well,  all  this  time  Ole  Miss  warn't  no  mann'r  ac 
count.  She  'd  cum  in  de  room  en  sit  dere  look'n'  at  dat 
chile  'n  fannin'  'er  slow  en  sof,  en  w'en  de  doctor 
cum  she  'd  look  at  him  ev'y  time  'e  sed  ennything,  but 
nev'r  so  much  es  op'n'  'er  mouf.  Dere  warn't  no  sleep 
in  'er  eyes.  Menny  'er  time  she  'd  cum  in  en  look  at 
me  in  de  night  er-settin'  dere,  en  den  at  de  baby,  en  go 
out.  Bime-by  she  'd  cum  ergin.  She  look'd  like  ter 
me  she  uz  er-warkin  in  'er  sleep  'erse'f,  sorter  skeer'd 
en  simple  like.  I  know'd  she  warn't  herse'f  den. 
But  w'en  me  en  Miss  Carrie  uz  er-shak'n'  dere  in  de 
do',  ev'ything  change  in  er  minit.  You  orter  seen  Ole 
Miss  den.  She  'd  been  er-sett'n'  dere,  wid  'er  face 
white  en  still,  look'n'  at  de  baby,  en  now  she  riz  up 
sudd'n  like,  en  stood  wid  'er  ha'r  streamin'  down  on 
'er  should'rs,  en  she  es  straight  es  er  Ingin,  en  'er  eyes 
er-blazin'. 

"'Go,'  she   said,   pointin'   'er  long  finger  at  me. 


120  "OLE  MISS"   AND   "SWEETHEART" 

1  Tek  dat  chile  ter  'er  room,  en  cum  back  heah.'  Her 
voice  sung  out  cl'ar,  en  cut  the  arr  like  er  bell  er-ring- 
in'.  I  know'd  'er  den.  She  started  ter  wark  de  room 
en  I  hyard  'er  keep  er-sayin',  '  Fools  !  fools  !  fools  ! ' 
Miss  Carrie  give  'er  one  quick  look,  en  I  hyard  her 
say,  '  Po'  ole  mamma ! '  Den  I  got  'er  upstairs  ergin. 
"  Wen  I  cum  back,  dere  wuz  Ole  Miss  still  er- 
wark'n'  en  er-sayin',  '  Fools !  po'  weak  fools ! '  ter 
'erse'f .  En  ev'y  wunst  'n  er  while  she  'd  toss  up  'er 
han's  en  shake  'er  he'd  en  sorter  trimble  all  over.  All 
er  sudd'n  she  shouted  out,  '  She  shall  not  die ! '  Wid 
dat  she  warked  out  inter  de  nex'  room  like  she  uz  done 
gone  crazy  sho'  nuff .  I  tell  yer  I  uz  skeer'd  den,  'cause 
hit  did  look  ter  me  like  Ole  Miss  might  give  out  en 
drop  down  de'd ;  so  I  slipp'd  up  ter  de  do'  en  watch'd 
'er.  She  went  er-stormin'  up  ter  de  closet  dere,  en 
took  down  de  big  Bible,  where  all  de  Cass'ls'  names  en 
de  Wuthin'tons'  uz  writ,  en  I  se'd  'er  spread  et  op'n  in 
de  middle,  en  fling  'erse'f  down  on  'er  knees  dere,  en 
lay  'er  face  on  et.  En  dere  she  lay  en  shuk  er  minit, 
but  not  long.  She  lif  up  one  han'  at  las'  en  tu'n  her 
po'  ole  white  face  to,  en  cried  out  loud,  wid  de  uth'r 
han'  on  de  page,  '  Look,  my  God !  look  !  All  gone  ! 
all!  all!  all !  —  all  but  dis  little  one !  Husban',  f  ath'r, 
mudd'r,  br'ers,  sist'rs,  sons  —  all !  —  all  but  this  little 
lam' !  Have  I  cried  out  bef o'  ?  Did  I  rebel  ergiust 
yer?  One  at  Marnassus,  one  at  Malvun  Hill,  one  at 
Shiloh,  one  at  Gettusburg  —  fever  en  bullet,  shot  en 


"OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART."  121 

shell,  but  nev'r  er  word,  O  my  God  !  One  by  one  they 
brought  'em  home — husbau',  fath'r,  en  sons.  Hit 
uz  thy  will.  These  ole  han's  closed  nev'r  er  eye. 
Hit  uz  thy  will.  These  ears  'ceived  no  las'  messurges. 
Hit  uz  thy  will.  I  gave  them  inter  thy  keep'n',  en  fur 
dey  country,  w'en  de  call  cum,  en  you  took  'em.  I 
gave  7em,  I  say,  en  no  eye  see'd  de  tears  in  mine.  I 
Tinoufd  hit  all  ujen  dey  marcWd  erway.  I  wuz  ready  I 
My  baby  boy  !  —  dat  uz  de  hardes'.  En  dey  tole  me  he 
cried  out  "Mudder  !"  w'en  he  fell.  O  my  God  !  my 
God !  did  you  heah  dat  cry !  I  have  hyard  et  ev'y 
day  sence.  En  now  dis  chile,  his  chile,  my  only  one ! 
Leave  'er  ter  my  ole  age,  O  my  God !  leave  me  dis  one. 
I  been  too  proud  en  too  col',  but  I  am  brok'n  now. 
Leave  my  baby ! ' 

"De  words  b'nt  inter  me  like  fire.  I  crep'  back 
dere  en  set  down.  Nobody  nev'r  seen  Ole  Miss  broke 
down  befo'.  She  uz  iron  all  ov'r,  en  hit  us  jes'  like 
she  sed.  Dey  brought  ole  marster  home  fus',  en  den 
de  young  ones,  tell  de  las'  cum  ;  en  she  stood  by  en 
saw  de  graves  fill'd  up,  en  nobody  ev'r  know'd  et  ef 
she  ev'r  shed  er  tear.  She  wen'  down  on  'er  knees,  en 
I  hyard  'er  hour  atter  hour  cryin'  out,  '  Leave  me  dis 
one  !  leave  me  dis  one  ! '  En  hit  did  look  like  she  uz 
er-prayin'  ergin  def,  for  de  baby  uz  col'  den,  en  er-get- 
tin'  stiff.  Dere  warn't  no  bref.  She  uz  de'd  es  ever 
I  seen  ennybody. 

"  Well,  sah,  I  uz  dat  worn  out,  w'at  wid  Ole  Miss 
11 


122  "OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART." 

sayin'  de  same  t'ing  hour  atter  hour  in  de  night,  en 
my  bein'  up  so  much,  I  sorter  los'  myse'f .  Sum  folks 
sez  I  uz  noddin',  but  don't  you  b'lieve  er  word  er  hit. 
All  uv  er  sudden  hit  look  like  I  c'u'd  see  er  shinin' 
angel  wid  de  baby  in  es  arms,  en  Ole  Miss  er-holdin' 
on  ter  es  robes,  en  er-cryin'  out,  '  Leave  me  dis  one ! ' 
En  bime-by  de  angel  cum  back  en  lay  de  baby  down 
on  de  bed,  en  I  uz  erbout  ter  call  Ole  Miss,  w'en 
sudd'n  I  hyard  the  Bible  slam,  bang!  en  Ole  Miss 
shout,  '  She  will  live  ! '  Den  she  cum  er-stompin'  tru 
de  do',  wid  'er  eyes  er-blazin'  en  'er  face  shinin'  like 
nobody  ev'r  seen  hit  befo',  en  bless  yo'  soul !  jes'  den 
I  hyard  a  little  weak  voice  dere  er-sayin',  'Mammy  — 
mammy/  en  I  re'ch  out  my  han'.  De  chile  uz  warm. 
'  Yes,-  yes/  I  shouted  ;  l  hit 's  His  work  !  hit 's  His 
work  !  She  done  cum  back  fum  de  de'd.'  En  all  de 
wimmin,  hyarin'  de  noise,  cum  runnin'  in,  cryin'  out, 
1  De  baby  es  de'd  !  de  baby  es  de'd  ! '  But  Ole  Miss, 
er-stan'n'  straight  ergin,  shouted  back  :  'Hit 's  er  lie; 
she  lives.  Back  fum  de  bed,  en  give  'er  air.  Back, 
I  say ! '  En  dey  took  one  look  et  Ole  Miss,  en  'mos' 
bre'k  deir  necks  gittin'  out  en  down  de  steps.  En 
erbout  dis  time  Miss  Carrie  cum  down,  er-holdin7  on 
de  walls  en  do's,  en  er-steddyin'  'erse'f  bes'  she  could. 
She  cum  en  stood  dere  in  de  do',  white  es  er  ghos',  but 
sayin'  nuthin'.  En  Ole  Miss  wen'  up  en  put  'er  arms 
roun'  her,  en  tuk  'er  ter  de  bed.  'Now,  you  c'u  lay 
down/  she  sez,  'en  sleep.  De  baby  went  up  yonner, 


"OLE  MISS"  AND    "SWEETHEART."  123 

but  God  look  down  on  us,  en  sont  er  angel  ter  fetch 
'er  back.'  En  Miss  Carrie  laid  down  en  tech  'er  lips 
ter  de  baby's.  '  She 's  warm,  en  she  sleeps/  she  whis 
pered.  Den  she  sorter  settled  down,  en  fus'  sing  you 
know  we  uz  er-rubbin'  'er,  tryin'  ter  fetch  'er  back  too, 
'cause  she'd  dun  fainted,  en  staid  fainted  'raos'  an 
hour." 

There  was  silence  a  moment.  The  scenes  so  vividly 
painted  seemed  to  survive  in  my  imagination.  Sud 
denly  the  old  woman  broke  in,  with  a  low  chuckle, 
"  Mandy,  you  rec'lec'  de  nex>  We'n'sday  atter  dat  day ! " 

"  Yes,  inarm.  Ain'  nobody  w'at  uz  dere  furgot  et." 
The  old  woman  rose  up  from  the  fire  she  had  been 
punching  again. 

"  Well,  sah,"  she  continued,  "  sech  doin's  nev'r  uz 
seed  on  de  plantation  sence  niy  day.  Ole  Miss  sed 
de  Lord  hed  dun  show'd  'er  mussy,  en  ev'ybody  mus' 
have  er  hol'day.  Choosdy  de  oberseer  picked  out 
'leven  fat  hogs  en  fo'  yearlines,  en  started  de  barbe 
cue  'long  'bout  dark.  En  while  dey  uz  er-cookin'  de 
vitu'ls,  de  nigg'rs  uz  er-dancin'  en  er-sing'n'.  Look 
ter  me  like  I  nev'r  seen  nigg'rs  dance  en  sing  like  dat 
befo'.  Blind  Billy  uz  dere  wid  es  fiddle,  en  Mike 
Slow  wid  de  bones,  en  Tom  Peeples  wid  es  banjo. 
Ole  Miss  let  'em  have  er  littl'  whisky,  en  hit  uz 
'  swing  your  cornders,'  en  '  han's  all  roun','  en  '  sha- 
shay  cross,'  tell  mighty  nigh  day.  I  do  b'lieve  Unc' 
Tom  —  Tom  wuz  de  kerridge  driver — uz  de  highes' 


124  "OLE  MISS"   AND   "SWEETHEART." 

stepper  dere.  Ain'  nobody  love  dat  baby  bett'r  'n 
Unc'  Tom.  Ev'y  mornin'  'mos'  befo'  de  sun  uz  up 
good,  he  'd  hetch  up  de  horses,  en  wid  me  er-sett'n' 
back  in  dere  like  er  fine  lady  en  de  baby  er-sett'n'  by 
me,  he  'd  drive  all  ov'r  everywhere,  en  w'en  we  git  back 
she  'd  sleep,  en  Unc7  Tom  'u'd  tek  'er  jes'  es  tend'rly  es 
ennybody,  en  car7  'er  in  de  house  w'ile  I  hoi'  de  hosses. 
En  when  she  uz  so  bad  off,  he  'd  cum  ev'y  mornin'  ter 
de  po'ch  en  look  at  we  alls  en  shake  es  hed  en  go  off. 
Dat  night  er  big  load  uz  off  Unc'  Tom,  en  'e  uz  er- 
jumpin'  roun'  cuttin'  de  short  dog  good  es  de  bes',  en 
makin'  b'lieve  he  uz  goin'  ter  kiss  sumbody. 

"  Sho'  nuff  de  next  day  de  crops  wuz  n't  wurk'd. 
De  mules  lay  dey  he'ds  ov'r  de  fence  en  holler'd  ter  de 
cows,  like  dey  uz  er-askin'  what  uz  de  matt'r,  'cause 
dey  know'd  't  warn't  Sunday,  en  de  cows  hollered 
back  en  say  dey  dun  know.  Erbout  dinn'r-time,  do', 
ev'ything  uz  reddy  down  dere  by  de  spring,  en  de 
horn  blow'd.  Lord !  Lord !  how  dem  nigg'rs  did  eat 
en  eat !  Look  ter  me  like  sum  er  'em  would  kill  dey- 
sevs.  Hog  meat,  biscuits  fum  de  kitch'n,  buttermick, 
chick'n,  gingerbread,  en  corn  beer  uz  es  thick  es  cot 
ton  in  de  patch,  en  hit  were  er  hol'day  sho'  nuff. 

"  "Well,  sah,  right  den  and  dere  I  seed  sum'n'  w'at 
'stonish  me.  Heah  cum  erlong  er  soger,  en  wark 
right  up  to  de  house,  en  w'en  Ole  Miss  cum  out  on  de 
po'ch  hit  would  er  make  yer  cry  ter  seen  'em.  He  uz 
well-nigh  barefooted,  en  his  clo'es  uz  rags.  He  uz  dat 


"OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART."  125 

white  too  dat  you  'd  er  said  he  uz  er  clayeat'r,  en  es  'e 
stood  dere  'e  put  es  han'  on  de  rail  ter  steddy  hisse'f. 
He  warn't  no  bad-look'n'  man  nuther,  jes'  'bout  yo' 
size  en  buiP,  en  de  same  forehead  en  curly  hair,  en  er 
way  er  hold'n'  up  es  he'd  make  me  t'ink  'bout  'im  fus' 
time  I  laid  eyes  on  yer. 

"  i  Madum,'  he  said,  sof  like,  er-tak'n'  off  es  hat,  '  I 
am  er-makin'  my  way  back  ter  New  Orlyans,  en  am 
mighty  nigh  starv'd  fur  de  want  uv  sum'u'  ter  eat.  I 
mus'  ask  yer  ter  he'p  me,  en  tek  de  chances  er  gittin' 
paid  w'en  de  war  is  ov'r,  'cause  I  aint  got  no  munny 
now.'  Dat  uz  w'at  'e  sed,  en,  bless  yo'  soul!  'e  sed 
hit  like  'e  uz  fresh  from  er  ballroom,  instid  uv  de 
hospitl  which  'e  wnz,  wid  es  arm  gone,  en  so  weak  'e 
could  n'  stan'  steddy.  But  you  oughter  seen  Ole  Miss. 
She  stretch  out  'er  arm  en  draws  'im  up  ter  'er  like  'e 
wuz  'er  son,  er-sayin',  '  God  dun  sont  you  hyah,  my 
boy.  I  sees  hit  now.  You  is  my  gues',  God-sent.' 
Den  she  took  'im  in  de  house,  en  made  'im  set  down 
by  de  big  table,  en  de  fus'  sing  she  did  uz  ter  sen'  me 
down  in  de  cellar  ter  git  er  bottle  er  wine.  Dere 
wuz  n'  but  five  lef,  'cause  she  done  car'd  de  balunce 
ter  Macon  fur  de  sick  sogers  long  ergo.  Dey  say  hit 
uz  made  de  year  de  stars  fell,  mighty  nigh  'bout  forty 
years  befo'.  "Well,  sah,  she  po'd  out  sum  fur  dat  boy, 
en  he  did  n'  look  like  nuthin'  but  er  boy,  en  'e  stood 
up  lean'n'  'g'inst  de  table  en  drink  ter  es  country,  'e 
ses,  en  es  country's  wimmin,  jes'  like  'e  wuz  at  er 


126  "  OLE  MISS"'  AXD   "SWEETHEART" 

party.  But  she  made  'im  set  down,  en  fetch'd  'im 
sum  dinn'r  wid  'er  own  han's.  En  w'en  she  got  dun 
dere  uz  ernuff  fur  ennybody.  Well,  sah,  de  po'  man 
took  sum  barbecue  on  es  fork  en  lif  et  up  two  times 
ter  es  mouf,  en  den  put  et  back  wid  es  han'  er-shak'n', 
en  w'en  Ole  Miss  ax  'im  w'at  de  matter,  he  eov'r  es 
face  wid  es  han'  eu  shake  all  ov'r,  er-sayin'  'e  dat 
hungry  'e  could  n'  eat :  dat  'e  hed  been  tu'ned  f um  do' 
ter  do'  tell  he  uz  7mos'  reddy  ter  give  et  up.  But 
"bime-by  'e  get  so  'e  can  eat,  en  den  Ole  Miss  tek  'im 
upstairs  en  give  'im  er  room  en  sum  ov  Marse  Frank's 
clo's,  en  er  pa'r  boots  en  er  nice  cap.  She  look  at  dat 
cap  er  long  time,  en  kiss  hit,  'cause  hit  uz  de  cap  'e 
had  on  w'en  he  uz  kilt.  But  she  put  et  on  de  soger's 
he'd  herse'f,  en  give  'im  sum  munny  too,  en  sont  down 
ter  de  pasture  en  ketch  Marse  Frank's  hoss,  which 
wuz  Beauregard,  en  put  Marse  Frank's  saddle  on  em 
too,  'cause  de  gem  man  say  'e  'bliged  ter  go  on.  Wen 
'e  cum  down,  you  would  n't  er  know'd  'im.  He  wuz 
like  er  new  man,  but  mighty  weak.  When  he  kiss 
Ole  Miss  han'  he  lef  es  tears  dere.  But  Ole  Miss,  wid 
'er  han'  on  es  shoulder,  ses,  '  In  God's  name  I  bid  you 
farewell.'  En  'e  sed  ef  de  pra'rs  uv  er  wife  en  mud- 
d'r  en  hisself,  en  de  love  uv  er  baby  boy,  uz  good, 
she  'd  git  'er  pay.  But  Ole  Miss  dun  up  en  say  de 
Lord  dun  settl'  wid  'er  already,  en  I  know'd  w'at  she 
wuz  er-tarkin'  erbout.  Den  'e  ride  off,  en  out  yonner 
he  tu'n  en  take  off  es  cap  fur  de  las'  time.  He  wuz 


"OLE  MISS"  AND   "SWEETHEART."  127 

ter  write  back  ef  'e  got  dere  safe,  but  nobody  ain' 
hyard  fum  'im;  en  ev'ybody  sed  'e  mus'  er  died  erlong 
de  way.  But  he  did  n;." 

"  And  what  became  of  the  family  ? " 

"Well,  sah,  de  war  cumm'd  down  hyah,  en  dey 
refugeed  erway  off  yander  ter  fus'  one  place  en  den 
ernuther.  En  de  house  got  bu'nt,  en  all  de  stock  uz 
run  off.  Den  Ole  Miss  died  sumw'ere,  en  uz  sont 
back  hyah,  en  Miss  Carrie  went  back  ter  ;er  folks,  dey 
say  ;  en  all  uv  'em  uz  dun  got  so  po'  dey  could  n'  do 
nuth'n'  fer  we  all.  One  day  Miss  Carrie  sont  me  er 
letter  ter  say  I  mus'  n'  let  Ole  Miss'  grave  get  los',  en 
I  ain't.  Fus'  I  sot  up  a  board  out  dere  on  de  bury'n'- 
groun' ;  en  den  I  scrape  er  little  munny  fum  de  tuck- 
ies  en  gyard'n  en  er  cotton  patch,  en  had  er  man  ter 
put  down  dat  slab." 

"  It  must  have  taken  considerable." 

"  Hit  did ;  but  not  so  much  es  ef  I  had  n't  er  had  de 
stone  already."  She  shifted  herself  uneasily  in  her 
chair,  and  looked  down  as  she  explained.  "  You  see, 
Ole  Cun'l  Bill  Cass'l  uz  buried  up  yonner  too,  wid  er 
fine  slab  ov'r  him,  en  'e  uz  de  meanes'  white  man  you 
ever  seed  w'en  'e  uz  livin',  so  I  thought  Ole  Miss 
bett'r  have  dat  stone  en  let  'im  do  'thout  fer  er  while ; 
en  we  jes'  tu'ned  hit  ov'r  en  did  de  cuttin'  en  polishin' 
on  tuth'r  side.  But  hit  ain'  fixed  jes'  right.  None  uv 
us  could  n'  'call  de  time  w'en  she  uz  born'd  'zactly,  or 
w'en  she  died,  en  Miss  Carrie  dun  gone  off  ergin  ter 


128  "OLE  MISS"   AND   "SWEETHEART." 

er  new  place.  I  know'd  she  uz  born'd  uv  er  Sunday, 
en  died  uv  er  Sunday,  but  hit  's  er  long  time  ergo. 
So  I  jes'  tole  'em  ter  put l  Ole  Miss'  on  et.  En  I  ses 
ter  myse'f,  ef  Miss  Carrie  ev'r  got  back  hyah,  es  she 
will  ef  she  live,  en  we  all  dun  gone,  't  ain't  goin'  ter  be 
no  troubl'  ter  find  de  place.  But  she  nev'r  cum  back. 
She  died  putty  soon  atter  dat  ov'r  yonner  at  er  uncl' 
"Wuthin'ton,  in  Bald'in  County.  But  de  baby  cum, 
bless  yo'  soul !  en  lie  cum  too,  dat  baby  boy  fum  er- 
way  out  yonner  in  New  Orlyans.  It 's  cureyus  how 
pra'rs  wuk  out.  I  uz  er-sett'n'  hyah  jes'  dis  way  'bout 
er  ye'r  ergo,  w'en  all  er  sudd'n  er  fine  young  gemman 
en  er  young  lady  dash  up  on  horseback  en  stop  right 
dere  w'ere  you  es  er-sett'n'.  De  minit  I  look  in  dere 
faces  I  hyard  sum'in'  er-calliu'  ter  me  erway  back 
yonner,  en  ev'rything  sorter  swim,  en  w'en  she  up  en 
ses,  '  Aunty,  kin  you  tell  me  w'ere  de  Cass'l  place  es  ? ' 
I  cried  out,  '  Hyar  hit  es,  en  bless  God  hyar  's  er 
Cass'l  dun  cum  back !  Sweetheart !  Sweetheart ! '  I 
sed,  wid  de  tears  er-runnin',  '  Sweetheart ! ' 

" '  Yes,'  she  sed,  en  den  I  gather'd  'er  roun'  de 
knees.  De  tears  uz  er-stan'in'  en  'er  eyes  too.  '  This 
mus'  be  mammy,'  she  'lowed,  '  that  po'  mamma  used 
ter  talk  so  much  erbout.'  En  she  jumped  down  dere 
en  I  had  'er  in  dese  ole  arms  wunst  mo'.  Den  she  laf 
er  littl'  en  say,  p'intin'  ter  de  gemman,  'Now  does  yer 
know  him  f '  I  tuk  one  look  at  'im  en  hit  seem  ter 
me  like  'e  dun  cum  out  er  de  ole  times  too.  All  uv  er 


"OLE  MISS"   AXD   "SWEETHEART."  129 

sudd'n  'e  up  en  say,  '  Does  you  'member  de  po'  soger 
w'at  rode  ole  Beauregard  away  ? '  '  Yes,  sah,'  ses  I, 
'  jes'  like  hit  uz  yestiddy.  De  las'  sing  'e  said  wuz, 
"  Ef  de  pra'rs  uv  er  wife  en  mudd'r  en  hisse'f,  en  de 
love  uv  er  baby  boy,  uz  good,  she  'd  git  paid." '  Wid 
dat  de  young  gemman  lif  off  his  hat  en  say,  '  De 
pra'rs  uv  er  fath'r  en  mudd'r,  en  de  love  uv  de  baby 
boy,  has  been  blessed ;  speshully  de  love  uv  de  baby 
boy.' 

"  Dey  tole  me  then  dat  Sweetheart  had  been  off  ter 
school  all  'er  life  mos',  en  de  fus'  time  she  went  up 
yonner  ter  de  Ferginny  Springs  dey  'd  met,  en  dat  uz 
ernuff.  Ennybody  could  er  seed  dey  uz  cut  out  fer 
one  ernuther.  Dey  es  er-cumm'n'  back  sum  day  ter 
buil'  up  de  ole  home  ergin,  but  hit  all  won't  nev'r 
b'long  ter  de  Cass'ls  ergin."  The  old  woman  laughed 
softly.  "No,  sah.  'Mammy'  owns  er  hundred  en 
fifty  uv  de  bes'  Ian'  hyah,  en  hit 's  bin  hers  ev'r  since 
de  day  de  babies  cum  back." 

So  ran  the  way-side  tale.  When  I  bade  the  homely 
souls  good-bye,  and  strode  out  to  the  railroad,  I 
passed  once  more  the  old  burial-ground,  now  bound 
with  a  new  interest.  The  tall  Lombardies,  towering 
fifty  feet  above  me,  their  limbs  growing  straight  up, 
stood  as  motionless  in  the  evening  calm  as  monu 
ments.  There  is  not  in  nature  a  more  placid  tree.  It 
never  tosses  its  arms  in  the  breeze,  nor  is  lashed  by 


130  "OLE  MISS"  AND     "SWEETHEART." 

the  storm.  The  oak  is  often  worked  into  rage,  but 
the  Lombardy  bends  its  far-away  crest  in  melancholy 
acquiescence  to  a  superior  power,  and  its  leaves  but 
twinkle  peacefully.  So  stood  they  there  in  their  still 
and  solemn  watch.  And  under  them  nestled  the 
grave  with  its  simple  legend,  "Old  Miss." 


SISTER    TODHUNTER'S    HEART. 


I. 


was  an  unusual  excitement 
in  Sweetwater.  The  new  preacher, 
a  young  man  of  fine  parts,  accom 
panied  by  his  wife,  had  arrived  a 
few  days  before,  delivered  a  most 
effective  sermon,  and  had  been  called  upon  with  the 
promptness  common  to  country  communities  where 
isolation  renders  local  curiosity  unbearable  after 
twenty-four  hours.  The  lady  of  the  parsonage, 
whose  husband  was  but  lately  a  theological  student 
and  now  engaged  for  the  first  time  upon  regular  pas 
toral  labors,  came  from  the  city,  and  dressed  in  a 
manner  that  was  bound  to  win  her  the  admiration  or 
the  hatred  of  half  the  village.  Already  that  grand, 
interchangeable  jury  common  to  all  communities  was 
sitting  upon  her  case.  The  term  is  used  in  a  figura 
tive  sense,  for  the  inquest  was  conducted  from  yard 
to  yard,  window  to  window,  and  even  across  the 
one  street  along  which  Sweetwater  was  congregated. 

131 


132  SISTER   TODNUNTER'S  HEART. 

Wherever  two  or  three  were  gathered  together  and 
two  of  the  three  happened  to  be  of  the  cradle-rocking 
order  of  society,  Parson  Eiley's  wife  was  the  theme. 

The  climax  was  reached  in  the  case  when  Parson 
Riley's  wife  sent  out  modest  little  notes  inviting 
about  twenty  matrons  to  take  tea  with  her  the  next 
day.  Then  the  jury  let  the  main  question  pass  while 
it  resolved  itself  into  committees  of  one,  each  of 
which  began  with  almost  frantic  anxiety  to  look  into 
the  question  of  dress.  Adaptation  became  the  order 
of  the  day,  for  no  time  remained  for  new  garments, 
even  if  Sweetwater  could  have  furnished  them. 
Twenty  ladies  drew  out  from  their  hiding-places 
twenty  bonnets  of  varied  shapes,  ages,  and  designs ; 
twenty  ladies  shook  to  the  breeze  the  camphored  folds 
of  twenty  bombazines,  alpacas,  and  venerable  silks; 
and  twenty  pairs  of  hands  went  to  work  with  needles, 
thread,  hot  irons,  stain-eradicators,  and  all  the  house 
hold  help  that  could  be  mustered,  to  turn  the  water 
of  ancient  respectability  into  the  wine  of  modern 
style  as  outlined  in  stray  magazines  and  described  by 
the  occasional  town  visitor. 

So  it  was,  then,  that  when  Sweetwater,  as  very 
properly  represented  by  its  leading  ladies,  assembled 
in  Parson  Riley's  modest  little  parlor  and  gazed  upon 
itself  in  all  its  glory,  a  somewhat  satisfied  air  settled 
over  it.  Poor,  faded  little  Mrs.  Brown,  in  her  dingy 
alpaca,  which  everybody  knew  she  bought  nine  years 


SISTER   TODHUXTER'S  HEART.  133 

before  with  money  awarded  her  at  the  county  fair  for 
preserves  and  pickles,  and  had  turned  and  re-turned 
until  it  was  equally  worn  all  over,  smiled  placidly 
upon  Mrs.  Bailey's  watered  silk  that  she  wore  when 
she  was  a  bride,  and  upon  the  bombazine  gown  that 
Mrs.  Buckner  inherited  from  her  mother,  and  felt 
thoroughly  comfortable.  And  Mrs.  Buckner's  little 
straw  bonnet,  that  had  been  in  fashion  twice  in  the 
fifteen  years  of  its  service,  rested  easy  upon  her  own 
artificial  knot  of  hair  when  she  beheld  Mrs.  Culpep- 
per's  Leghorn  flare-front  head-gear,  and  noted  the 
cork-screw  iron-gray  curls  pinned  around  the  severe 
brow  of  Colonel  Ledbetter's  wife  just  as  they  had 
been  on  state  occasions  for  twenty  years. 

This  feeling  of  comfort  was  greatly  strengthened 
by  the  fact  that  Parson  Riley's  wife  wore  a  plain 
dark  close-fitting  gown  of  some  flexible  material  with 
out  ornamentation,  and  that  her  hair  was  brushed 
back  without  any  attempt  at  the  fashionable  arrange 
ments  they  feared  would  crush  them.  Then  the  little 
lady  moved  about  among  them  with  her  sweetest 
smiles,  and  the  nicest  tea,  and  a  little  notice  for  each 
of  her  guests.  She  had  observed  what  an  "  elegant 
young  woman"  was  Mrs.  Buckner's  Samanthy,  just 
back  from  Wesleyan  College  in  Macon ;  and  Mrs. 
Brown's  son  Tom  was  "  handsome  enough  to  be  gov 
ernor."  As  for  Mrs.  Culpepper's  baby,  why,  it  was 
"  just  too  lovely  for  anything."  She  captured  a  very 
12 


134  SISTER   TODHUNTER'S  HEART. 

large-hearted  woman  entirely  when  she  whispered  to 
Mrs.  Bailey  that  her  husband  was  the  finest-looking 
man  she  had  seen  in  Sweetwater, —  "excepting  my 
Phil,  you  know,"  she  added.  And  this  loyalty  only 
sank  the  compliment  deeper.  Then  she  hurried  off 
for  a  pencil,  and  begged  Mrs.  Colonel  Ledbetter  to 
give  her  her  recipe  for  making  the  scuppernong  wine 
she  had  heard  so  much  praised,  and  she  laid  her  book 
in  the  dear  old  lady's  lap  and  wrote  it  as  dictated.  In 
an  hour  Parson  Riley's  wife  was  by  unanimous  con 
sent  established  at  the  head  of  Sweetwater,  and  could 
afford  to  take  the  company  in  to  see  her  lace  curtains, 
baby  and  baby  dresses,  and  all  the  little  bric-a-brac 
that  had  been  showered  upon  her  as  a  bride, —  with 
out  awakening  a  single  jealous  feeling. 

But  a  storm  was  brewing,  and  its  first  mutterings 
were  heard  when  Mrs.  Culpepper  thoughtlessly  men 
tioned  "  Sister  Todhunter." 

"  Sister  Todhunter  ? "  said  Parson  Riley's  wife, 
looking  from  one  to  the  other,  a  puzzled  expression 
shadowing  her  pretty  face ;  "  have  I  met  Sister  Tod- 
hunter?  Dear  me,  can  I  have  made  a  mistake  after 
all  ? "  She  had  tried  so  hard  to  please  everybody,  and 
here  was  trouble  at  the  first  move. 

"No,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Culpepper  promptly ;  "it 
was  I  who  made  the  mistake."  But  poor  Mrs.  Riley 
noted  the  ominous  look  upon  the  faces  of  several  and 
the  glances  they  exchanged. 


SISTEB   TODHUNTER' S  HEART.  135 

"  I  am  sure,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  I  would  have 
been  glad  to  have  had  Sister  Todhunter  if  I  had 
known  in  time.  Does  she  live  in  the  village  ? " 

"  No,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Colonel  Ledbetter ;  "  she  is 
a  disagreeable  old  thing  who  lives  out  on  her  farm 
about  a  mile  from  here.  You  have  n't  lost  anything 
by  not  knowing  her."  Mrs.  Ledbetter  was  a  power 
in  the  land,  and  her  iron-gray  curls  shook  in  a  dan 
gerous  and  threatening  manner  as  she  declared  her 
self.  "  She  is  sometimes  pleasant,  to  be  sure,  but  if 
it  was  n't  for  her  husband,  poor  man,  who  married 
her  out  of  pity,  although  she  was  only  a  '  cracker ' 
and  he  a  man  of  education  and  standing,  she  would 
n't  be  noticed." 

"  I  think,"  said  poor  faded  little  Mrs.  Brown  meekly, 
"  that  Sister  Todhunter  has  a  good  heart,  and  I  'm 
sure  she  always  treated  me  kindly." 

"  And  who  would  n't  ? "  interposed  Mrs.  Culpepper, 
laughing.  "  You  see  some  good  in  everybody,  Sallie, 
and  everybody  sees  some  in  you.  But  as  for  Sister 
Todhunter,  she  is  better  at  long  range." 

Presently  there  was  a  movement  among  the  ladies, 
and  soon  Parson  Riley's  wife,  the  recipient  of  twenty 
kisses  and  as  many  warm  handshakes,  was  left  alone 
with  her  empty  cups  and  the  memory  of  Sister  Tod 
hunter. 


II. 

WHEN  Parson  Elley  heard  the  description  of  his 
wife's  tea-party  from  her  own  lips,  told  with  many  a 
smile  and  an  occasional  sigh,  his  first  resolution  was 
to  call  upon  Colonel  Todhunter  and  his  wife.  So  it 
was  that  early  next  morning  he  saddled  his  patient 
mare  and  ambled  out  to  the  Todhunter  farm. 

As  Parson  Riley  approached  the  little  cottage,  he 
saw  sitting  on  the  steps  a  man  with  his  chin  in  his 
hands.  The  first  thing  that  impressed  him  was  the 
air  of  extreme  dejection  about  the  individual,  an  air 
that  became  more  marked  after  he  had  dismounted 
and  advanced  toward  the  house.  Rousing  himself 
from  his  reveries,  the  individual  rose  slowly  and  fixed 
a  pair  of  tired,  watery  blue  eyes  upon  the  parson. 
The  clothes  he  wore  were  broadcloth,  but  they  were 
faded  now,  and  stained  down  the  front  with  tobacco 
juice ;  and  they  shone  with  a  polish  evidently  acquired, 
like  good  manners,  through  long  wear. 

"This  is  Colonel  Todhunter,  I  believe,"  said  the 
visitor,  holding  out  his  hand.  "  I  am  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Riley."  The  gentleman  in  the  polished  suit  held  the 
proffered  hand  as  he  replied,  in  a  singularly  low  and 
sweet  voice : 

13C 


SISTER   TODKCNTER'S  HEART.  137 

"  You  're  the  new  parson,  I  reckon.  You  will  have 
to  speak  louder ;  I  am  a  little  deef ." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  parson,  elevating  his  voice.  "  How 
is  your  family  ? " 

"What  did  you  say?"  inquired  the  low,  musical 
voice,  while  the  blue  eyes  brightened  a  little. 

"  How  is  your  family  ?  " 

"  Oh,  very  well,  I  believe.  Come  in  and  set  down." 
He  led  the  way  slowly,  with  a  slight  limp,  toward  the 
little  porch.  As  they  ascended  the  steps  Parson  Riley 
caught  sight  of  the  figure  of  an  enormous  woman  in 
a  calico  dress  and  a  white  apron,  that  loomed  up  in 
the  doorway.  She  carried  in  her  hand  a  broom ;  and 
a  broad,  square,  almost  fierce  face  with  small  black 
eyes  was  turned  upon  him. 

"'Mandy,"  said  the  colonel  gently,  "  this  is  the  new 
parson."  "  The  new  parson ;;  stepped  forward  quickly 
and  extended  his  hand. 

"  My  dear  madam,  I  ana  glad  to  meet  you,"  he  said, 
a  smile  kindling  on  his  handsome  face.  She  looked 
at  him  suspiciously,  gave  him  her  left  hand,  and 
said : 

"  Howdye ! " 

"  I  hope  you  are  well,  madam  ?" 

"  Toler'ble,"  she  replied.  And  then  she  turned  her 
back  and  moved  off  with  an  elephantine  amble. 

"  So  this  is  Sister  Todhunter,"  thought  Parson 
Riley.  "  Well,  I  shall  have  trouble  here." 


138  SISTER   TODHU\TEK'S  HEART. 

The  men  sat  down,  and  the  conversation  began. 
Colonel  Todhunter  proved  to  be  courtly,  almost 
womanly,  in  his  manners,  but  his  few  opinions  were 
ventured  with  a  diffidence  most  painful,  and  the  par 
son  was  glad  when  the  time  came  to  say  good-day. 
He  was  about  to  mount  his  mare  again  when  the 
colonel,  who  had  followed  him  out,  touched  his 
arm. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  on  a  private  matter,"  he 
said  softly.  "  Suppose  we  walk  a  little."  So  arm 
and  arm  they  moved  off.  "I  want  to  speak  about 
Mrs.  Todhunter,"  said  the  gentle  voice  again.  "  To 
tell  you  the  truth,  Parson,  I  am  leading  a  life  here 
that  is  almost  unbearable,  and  I  think  you  can  help 
me. 

"  Mrs.  Todhunter  is  a  violent  woman,  Parson, —  I 
use  the  term  advisedly ;  she  is  a  violent  woman,  and 
unless  I  can  bring  about  a  marked  change  in  her 
character,  I  do  not  know  what  I  shall  do.  She  uses 
language  toward  me  that  is  altogether  uuchristian- 
like  and  unbecoming.  And  worse ;  when  she  gets 
one  of  her  spells  upon  her,  she  assaults  me  with 
anything  nearest  at  hand.  Only  this  morning  I 
received  several  blows  from  her  broom  that  have 
nearly  lamed  me.  Parson," — they  had  reached  the 
friendly  shelter  of  the  barn  by  this  time,  and  the 
colonel  straightened  up  a  little,  while  his  eyes  act 
ually  glittered, — "  I  am  tired  of  this  dog's  life,  and  I 


SISTER   TODHUXTER'S  HEART,  139 

want  your  assistance.  I  think  if  Mrs.  Todhunter  is 
formally  reported  to  the  church,  and  humiliated,  it 
will  bring  about  a  change."  Parson  Riley's  face 
showed  his  surprise,  and  the  colonel  added  at  once, 
al  have  had  this  in  mind  a  long  time,  and  once  I 
brought  the  matter  to  the  mind  of  Parson  Thompson, 
who  preceded  you, —  a  worthy  man,  but  timid.  He 
would  not  move  in  the  matter.  Now,  will  you?" 
Parson  Riley  was  young  and  combative. 

"  I  will,"  he  said  promptly. 

"What?"  The  deaf  man  placed  his  hand  to  his 
ear. 

"  I  will,"  shouted  the  parson.  "  Sister  Todhunter 
shall  be  disciplined."  The  colonel  looked  pleased. 

"  I  was  a  church-member  myself  once,7'  he  said 
softly,  "but  this  eternal  quarrel  drove  me  out.  I 
could  not  break  bread  feeling  as  I  do  toward  Mrs. 
Todhunter."  His  chin  trembled.  He  filled  his  cheeks 
with  wind  and  blew  it  out  under  the  pressure  of  his 
emotion.  uYou  cannot  imagine  to  what  an  extent 
this  persecution  has  gone.  Why,  sir,  there  have 
been  times  when  I  considered  my  life  in  danger.  I 
am  not  a  dissipated  man,"  he  continued,  resting  his 
blue-veined  hand  upon  the  parson's  shoulder  and 
turning  the  blue  eyes  earnestly  upon  him,  "but  of 
course  I  take  a  julep  now  and  then, —  you  under 
stand;  habits  of  an  old-time  Georgia  gentleman, — 
and  sometimes  I  have  taken  too  much.  I  admit  that 


140  SISTER   TODHUNTER'S  HEART. 

Mrs.  Todhunter  has  had  some  provocation  in  that 
direction,  but  not  enough,  Parson,  to  justify  her  in 
regarding  me  as  a  dog."  His  breast  heaved  con 
vulsively. 

"  A  woman/'  said  the  young  man  firmly,  touched 
by  the  pathos  and  emotion  of  his  dignified  companion, 
"has  no  right  to  strike  her  husband  except  in  the 
defense  of  her  life." 

"  Hey  ? "  Colonel  Todhunter  cupped  his  left  ear 
deftly  with  the  transparent  hand. 

"  I  say  a  woman  has  no  right  to  strike  her  hus 
band  " 

"  Why,  bless  your  soul,  parson,  that  's  a  small 
matter,  a  very  small  matter  indeed!"  A  sad  smile 
flitted  across  the  lips  of  the  speaker.  "A  very  small 
matter."  He  fixed  his  eyes  upon  his  companion 
with  a  sudden  resolution.  "  Why,  do  you  know, 
Mrs.  Todhunter  came  near  smothering  me,  only  last 
week ? " 

"Smothering?" 

"Hey?" 

"  Came  near  smothering  you?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  To  tell  the  truth,  Parson,  I  was  a  little 
mixed  —  had  taken  a  little  too  much,  you  understand. 
Had  been  camping  out  a  week  down  at  Bloomley's 
mill  with  Colonel  Ledbetter  and  others,  fishing,  and 
drank  a  little  too  much.  Unfortunat'ly  I  came  home 
a  little  under  the  influence  of  stimulants,  and  found 


That 's  a  small  matter 


SISTER   TODHUNTER'S  HEART.  141 

Mrs.  Todhunter  on  fire  about  the  cotton  being  in  the 
grass.  As  I  was  preparing  to  lie  down,  being  also 
ill,  Mrs.  Todhunter,  with  her  superior  strength  and 
weight,  forced  me  between  the  mattresses  and  sat 
down  on  me.  And  there  she  sat,  Parson,  three  hun 
dred  pounds,  and  it  a  July  day,  and  knitted  all  the 
afternoon.  '  I  '11  sweat  that  whisky  out  er  you,'  she 
says ;  and  she  did.  The  perspiration  that  exuded 
from  my  pores  soaked  through  the  mattress  and 
dripped  on  the  floor.  I  do  not  know  how  I  lived 
through  it."  He  drew  out  his  handkerchief  and  wiped 
his  forehead,  to  which  the  memory  of  his  sufferings 
had  actually  brought  the  moisture.  "  When  will  you 
move  in  the  matter  ? "  he  asked  more  cheerfully. 

"  At  once." 

"  Hey  ? " 

"  At  once.     I  '11  have  her  up  next  Sunday " 

Parson  Riley  paused.  The  vast  presence  of  Sister 
Todhunter  had  passed  around  the  corner  of  the  barn. 
There  was  a  painful  silence  of  about  two  seconds,  and 
then  her  voice  arose. 

"  So,"  she  said  loudly,  with  her  eye  on  the  colonel, 
who  started  as  though  shot,  "  so  !  This  is  your  game, 
is  it  ?  tellin'  lies  on  your  wife  to  every  stranger  that 
comes  along.  I'll  teach  you  better  manners,  if  I 
have  to  break  every  bone  in  yer  soft,  cowardly  body." 
She  made  a  rush  at  her  offending  lord,  which  he 
easily  and  promptly  avoided  by  stepping  briskly 


142  SISTER   TODHUNTER'S  HEART. 

away,  leaving  his  late  companion  to  hold  the  field  as 
best  he  might. 

"  Madam,"  said  Parson  Riley,  raising  his  hand  as  if 
about  to  ask  a  benediction, —  it  was  his  most  impress 
ive  attitude, — "  I  beseech  you  to  remember  that  this 
gentleman  is  your  husband  and  that  you  are  a  mem 
ber  of  my  church " 

"  What  have  you  got  to  do  with  hit,  you  little 
chick'n-eatin'  thing  you  ? "  She  had  turned  upon 
him  with  war  in  her  eye  and  war  in  her  whole  make 
up  generally.  "  A  pretty  sort  er  parson  you  air,  ain't 
yer,  hangin'  roun'  decent  women's  houses  list'nin'  ter 
lies  an'  slanders.  Oh,  I  know  what  he  wants ;  he 
wants  ter  git  me  up  'fore  Moun'  Zion  Church.  He 
tried  hit  on  ole  Thompson,  but  he  daresn't  move  er 
peg.  I  tole  him,  an'  I  tell  you,  ef  they  have  me  up 
'fore  Moun'  Zion,  hit  '11  be  er  bad  day  fur  Moun'  Zion." 
She  shook  her  clinched  fist  at  him. 

Parson  Riley  was  half  Irish,  a  little  Welsh,  and  the 
rest  American.  Besides,  he  was  young  and  inexpe 
rienced. 

"  Your  case  will  be  up  next  Sunday  morning.  You 
can  come  or  not,  as  you  please."  He  said  this  with  a 
somewhat  unclerical  but  very  natural  emphasis,  and, 
turning  on  his  heels,  left  the  spot.  The  last  words 
he  heard  were,  "  I  ain't  'feard  o'  you  ner  all  the  Moun' 
Zions  in  the  world." 

As  Parson  Riley  mounted  his  mare,  Colonel  Tod- 


SISTER   TODHUNTER'S  HEART.  143 

hunter  crawled  through  the  hedge  a  few  yards  off, 
looked  cautiously  around,  secured  his  pipe  from  the 
porch,  and  went  back  silently  the  way  he  came.  A 
smile  forced  itself  upon  the  lips  of  the  young  preacher, 
and  a  little  farther  down  the  road  he  laughed  out 
right. 


III. 

SUNDAY  morning  brought  an  enormous  crowd  to 
Mount  Zion  Church,  as  the  village  edifice  was  called. 
This  was  natural,  as  on  that  day  the  Presiding  Elder 
was  to  deliver  a  sermon,  and  a  visit  from  the  Presid 
ing  Elder  of  the  district  always  drew  a  crowd.  But 
the  fact  noised  about  throughout  the  land,  that  Sister 
Todhunter  had  been  summoned  and  was  to  be  tried, 
also  operated  powerfully  as  an  assembling  factor,  and 
many  people  who  had  long  neglected  their  church 
duties  put  in  an  appearance.  Farmers  for  miles 
around  came  bringing  their  wives  and  daughters  in 
their  wagons.  Young  men  in  buggies  with  their 
sweethearts  were  numerous,  and  the  grove  about  the 
church  was  full  of  vehicles  and  "  tied-out  stock  "  when 
service  time  arrived. 

About  10  o'clock  a  sudden  movement  around  the 
doorway  indicated  that  preaching  was  about  to  begin, 
and  the  congregation  filed  slowly  within,  the  men  to 
the  left,  the  women  to  the  right.  Parson  Riley,  sit 
ting  in  the  pulpit  with  the  portly  form  of  Elder 
Hamlin  beside  him,  watched  with  an  abiding  interest 
the  faces  of  the  comers.  When  the  last  was  in  and 
settled,  he  heaved  a  deep  sigh  of  relief, —  Sister  Tod- 

144 


SISTER  TODHUNTER'S  HEART.  145 

hunter  was  not  present ;  she  was  going  to  remain  at 
home  and  let  the  trial  go  by  default. 

He  did  not  know  Sister  Todhunter ! 

Elder  Hamlin  at  last  arose,  his  red  countenance 
glowing  like  a  beacon  above  the  sea  of  faces,  and  in  a 
voice  like  a  trumpet's  opened  the  meeting  with  prayer. 
He  asked  Divine  blessing  upon  Mount  Zion,  Sweet- 
water,  and  the  remainder  of  the  world,  invoking  a 
helping  hand  for  "the  b-r-r-r-a-v-e  young  soldier  of 
the  cross  "  who  had  "  come  among  these  people  to  bat 
tle  for  the  right,"  and  upon  "  the  young  woman,  just 
buddin'  into  matoority,"  who  had  u  come  to  share  his 
trials  and  minister  with  him."  His  prayer  concluded 
with  an  appeal  in  behalf  of  the  erring  sister  whose 
wrong-doings  they  were  about  to  consider. 

"  May  she  be  led  to  see  the  error  of  her  way,"  he 
said,  "an'  turn  her  feet  into  the  strait  an'  narrow 
path."  And  he  thanked  the  Lord  for  the  assurance 
given  in  those  lines  which  declare  that 

"  while  the  lamp  holds  out  to  burn 
The  viles'  sinner  may  return." 

Elder  Hamlin  ceased,  and  amid  the  shuffling  of  feet 
that  followed  the  deep  "  Amen  "  which  rolled  from  the 
prompt  "  Amen  corner  "  back  into  the  dilatory  recess 
beyond  the  last  post,  the  congregation  resumed  their 
seats.  Then  Parson  Riley  stepped  forward,  and  in 

13 


146  SISTER   TODHUNTER'S  HEART. 

the  clear  debating-society  tones  his  wife  loved  so  well, 
read  the  opening  hymn : 

"  From  Greenland's  icy  mountains, 
From  India's  coral  strand." 

Elder  Buckner  stood  up  in  advance  of  the  congre 
gation  and  raised  the  tune  in  a  strong  baritone  that 
at  once  sprang  out  boldly  and  challenged  the  whole 
assembly.  He  was  instantly  pursued  and  overtaken 
by  Mrs.  Culpepper's  soprano;  and  Mrs.  Buckner's 
sweet  contralto  soon  found  an  entering  place.  After 
her  came  the  deep  bumble-bee  bass  of  Colonel  Led- 
better,  who  adjusted  his  gold-rimmed  glasses  as  he 
came  in.  This  was  the  customary  opening.  No  one 
in  Sweetwater  would  have  dreamed  of  invading  the 
melody  with  any  sort  of  a  voice  until  Elder  Buckner, 
Mrs.  Culpepper,  Mrs.  Buckner,  and  Colonel  Ledbet- 
ter  had  obtained  a  fair  start.  Any  one  so  imprudent 
would  have  drawn  the  attention  of  the  whole  congre 
gation  upon  himself.  But,  the  quartette  well  under 
way,  everybody  was  at  liberty  to  rush  in ;  and  so  on 
this  occasion,  soon,  borne  aloft  by  the  united  voices 
of  the  entire  congregation,  the  grand  old  melody 
sailed  out  and  swept  far  away  down  the  pine  aisles 
into  the  peaceful  Sabbath  heart  of  the  woodlands. 

The  last  tone  died  away — as  usual  it  was  the  deep 
hum  of  Colonel  Ledbetter's  bass,  which  refused  to  be 
quieted  for  a  while.  Then  the  congregation  sank 


SISTEE   TODHUNTER'S  HEART.  147 

into  their  seats,  and  Elder  Hamlin  stood  up  and  de 
livered  a  powerful  sermon  upon  the  wife  and  her  true 
position. 

Then  came  the  long-looked-for  moment. 

Parson  Riley  had  descended  from  the  pulpit  to 
state  the  business  of  the  hour,  which  every  one 
awaited  with  feverish  impatience,  when  a  form  filled 
the  doorway,  and  Sister  Todhunter,  in  holiday  attire 
of  red  silk,  black  lace,  and  a  great  flower-ladened 
flare-front  bonnet,  stood  before  him.  As  by  instinct 
everybody  knew  she  was  there,  and  every  head  save 
one  was  turned  toward  her.  She  paused  long  enough 
to  survey  the  crowd  contemptuously,  then,  with  a 
great  waddle,  she  marched  up  the  aisle,  took  a  chair 
out  from  under  little  Major  Brown  almost  before  he 
could  vacate  it,  placed  its  back  against  the  pulpit, 
and  sat  down. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  looking  at  Parson  Riley,  while 
she  adjusted  the  folds  of  her  dress,  "  go  on  with  yer 
lies;  I'm  ready."  Parson  Riley  turned  pale,  and 
then  red.  Some  of  the  thoughtless  young  people 
snickered,  and  there  was  a  general  stir  of  expecta 
tion.  Colonel  Ledbetter,  without  unbending  a  par 
ticle  of  his  enormous  and  ever-blooming  dignity, 
looked  at  Major  Brown  and  winked  with  both  eyes. 
Brown  put  his  hand  over  his  mouth  and  coughed 
violently.  But  the  parson  soon  rallied,  and,  turning 
to  the  congregation,  said  firmly  : 


148  SISTER   TODHUNTER'S  HEART. 

"  Brothers  and  sisters,  for  such  you  are  in  the  holy 
union  of  the  church,  and  I  trust  soon  to  say  in  the 
affection  born  of  joint  and  self-sacrificing  labors,  I 
have  a  painful  duty  to  perform  this  morning,  one 
that  I  fain  would  avoid,  but " 

"  Oh,  shucks,  say  what  yer  got  ter  say  and  don't 
palaver  so  much."  This,  of  course,  came  from  Sis 
ter  Todhunter.  He  paused  a  second  for  the  new 
sensation  to  subside,  and  without  looking  at  her  he 
continued : 

"  It  is  a  duty,  and  of  such  there  can  be  no  avoid 
ance  without  guilt." 

"  Very  pretty.     Be'n  all  the  week  er-learnin'  hit  ? " 

"  I  am  called  upon  to  present  to  you  this  morning 
an  erring  sister,"  he  continued,  linking  his  hands 
together  and  bowing  them  before  him  palms  down 
ward  while  he  rocked  back  upon  his  heels  and 
brought  his  toes  to  the  ground  again,  "who,  not 
satisfied  with  violating  at  home  the  proprieties  of 
the  domestic  circle  and  the  commands  and  precepts 
of  the  Scriptures,  has  come  into  the  house  of  the 
Lord  defiant  and  rebellious,  with  sneers  upon  her  lips 
and  contempt  for  His  minister  and  His  people  in  her 
heart.  The  evidence  of  this  latter  is  before  you ;  of 
the  former,  her  husband,  a  gentleman  whom  you  all 
know,  will  speak." 

Colonel  Todhunter  was  sitting  on  the  front  seat  at 
the  elbow  of  Parson  Riley,  his  chin  upon  his  shirt- 


SISTER   TODHUNTER 'S  HEART.  149 

front,  and  deep  dejection  written  in  every  line  of  his 
face.  There  was  also  a  pallor  there.  He  was  proba 
bly  the  only  person  in  the  church  who  had  not  seen 
or  heard  his  wife  enter.  The  parson  was  forced  to 
rouse  him  with  a  touch. 

"  Get  up,  Colonel,"  he  said,  "  and  state  your  case." 
"  Hey  ? "  The  parson  motioned  to  a  spot  in  front 
and  then  to  the  sea  of  expectant  faces  turned  toward 
him.  He  understood,  and  sidled  along  with  his 
white  face  to  the  crowd,  his  blue  eyes  searching 
every  bench,  until  he  reached  the  place  indicated ; 
then  he  folded  his  poor  white  hands  together  and 
drew  a  long  breath  of  relief :  Sister  Todhunter 
was  not  in  sight.  He  opened  his  mouth  to  speak, 
when  an  event  occurred  that  threw  the  crowd  pres 
ent  into  the  most  intense  excitement.  In  moving 
to  the  front  Colonel  Todhunter  came  within  four 
or  five  feet  of  his  wife,  to  whom  his  back  was  half 
turned.  He  had  just  satisfied  himself  that  he  was 
secure,  and  had  said  "I,"  when  Sister  Todhunter 
leaned  forward,  extended  her  crooked  handled  um 
brella  its  full  length,  deftly  hooked  it  in  the  collar  of 
her  husband's  coat,  and  with  one  jerk  landed  him 
backward  and  head-first  into  her  lap.  So  sudden 
was  the  act,  so  utterly  unexpected,  that  everybody 
for  an  instant  paused  and  gazed  in  open-mouthed 
astonishment.  Then  those  in  the  rear  tumbled  over 
each  other  for  better  positions,  and  big  Elder  Hamlin 


150  SISTER  TODHUXTER'S  HEART. 

rushed  to  the  colonel's  assistance.  The  angry  woman 
met  the  rescuer  with  such  energy  that  his  alarmed 
neighbors  were  compelled  to  lead  him  outside  and 
pour  water  on  his  head. 

In  the  mean  time  Major  Brown,  Colonel  Ledbetter, 
Elder  Buckner,  Mr.  Ctilpepper,  and  others  were  strug 
gling  to  release  Colonel  Todhunter,  whose  convulsive 
play  of  legs  and  awful  expression  of  face  indicated 
approaching  dissolution.  The  united  strength  of  six 
men  was  sufficient  at  last  to  effect  this,  and  the 
colonel,  all  breathless,  arose. 

"  Are  you  hurt  much.  Colonel  ?  r  shouted  good  Mrs. 
Buckner,  who  had  crowded  to  the  front.  With  one 
hand  on  his  head  and  the  other  struggling  for  his  hand 
kerchief,  which  was  in  the  wrong  coat-tail  pocket,  and 
with  tears  rolling  down  his  cheeks,  he  replied  softly  : 

"  I  had  only  a  little  hair  left,  gray  hair,  madam ; 
I  fear  she  has  pulled  that  out,  too." 

The  hubbub  was  indescribable,  and  everybody  was 
crowding  to  the  front.  Parson  Riley  waved  them 
back. 

"  Sit  down.*  he  shouted.  "  We  can't  do  anything 
so  long  as  you  stand  up !  ^  All  dropped  back  into 
their  seats,  except  about  a  dozen  of  the  most  trust 
worthy  and  dignified  churchmen  around  the  refrac 
tory  sister,  who  with  a  strong  grip  on  the  edge  of  her 
chair  was  holding  her  position,  while  she  talked  to  the 
men  nearest  her. 


SISTER   TODHUy  TEE'S  HE  AST.  151 

"  You  thiiik  yerself  mighty  smart,  don't  yer  !r  she 
said,  catching  Parson  Riley's  eye.  "  An'  yer  wife  — 
my  !  ain't  she  stuck  up,  with  her  lace  curtains  an'  tea- 
parties  !  Too  proud  ter  invite  we,  but  not  too  proud 
ter  invite  old  Jane  Gramby,  whose  boy  stole  a  mule."' 
There  was  a  shriek  in  the  audience,  and  Mr.  Gramby, 
standing  near,  hurried  to  his  wife. 

"  An'  there  's  Tom  Culpepper.  He  's  er  pretty  nice 
one  to  be  settin'  hisse'f  up  fur  er  church-cleaner.  I 
saw  him  pass  my  house  so  drunk  las'  week  he  did  n't 
know  if  he  was  goin'  home  er  comin'  back."  Again 
the  thoughtless  giggled.  Tom  Culpepper's  habits 
were  certainly  unfortunate. 

"  An'  there  's  Brother  Spikes.  He  's  er  good  han' 
ter  weed  out  er  church,  ain't  he?  An'  his  cotton  in 
the  grass  so  bad  that  yer  can't  see  hit  from  the  road.77 
Again  a  subdued  applause  from  the  great  audience. 

"  This  is  simply  outrageous."  said  Brother  Spikes  to 
Mr.  John  Edgerly  hotly ;  ••  that  woman  ought  to  be 
ducked." 

'•  Ought  she,  indeed ! ''  said  Sister  Todhunter, 
catching  the  remark.  "  Then  you  better  git  John 
Edgerly  ter  help  you.  His  gra'ma  was  ducked  for 
tattlin1.  en  I  reckon  he  '11  know  how  ter  go  about  hit," 
This  terrible  dig  drew  all  eyes  upon  Edgerly,  and  he 
turned  as  red  as  a  turkey-comb. 

"Madam,"  said  Colonel  Ledbetter.  advancing  to  a 
prominent  position  in  all  the  dignity  and  confidence 


152  SISTER   TODHUNTER' S  HEART. 

of  his  high  standing  in  Sweetwater,  "  I  trust  you  will 
let  your  old  friend  advise  you." 

"  When  did  you  come  to  be  my  old  friend  ?  "  she 
replied  with  terrible  sarcasm.  "Was  hit  when  yer 
charged  me  twelve  per  cent,  for  the  loan  of  er  hundred 
dollars,  or  was  hit  when  you  made  me  pay  for  er 
hundred  bushels  of  corn  because  my  mule  et  five  ? " 
Taking  his  hat  and  cane,  the  colonel  walked  outside 
and  sat  down  on  a  stump. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Parson  Riley  suddenly,  seeing 
his  force  rapidly  falling  away,  "  the  only  thing  to  do 
is  to  carry  her  out  and  send  he*  home.  If  you  will 
all  take  hold  we  can  carry  her  out  quickly."  The  men 
were  ready  for  any  escape  from  the  merciless  lashing 
the  woman  was  giving  them.  With  a  rush  they  seized 
her,  chair  and  all,  she  fighting  desperately,  and  bore 
her  outside.  After  a  brief  rest,  during  which  the  as 
saulting  party  repaired  damages,  they  lifted  her  again 
and  made  for  the  wagon.  The  rail  fence  furnished 
her  a  hold  when  they  tried  to  lift  her  over,  and  it  be 
came  necessary  to  take  it  down.  Then  another  fierce 
struggle  ensued  at  the  wagon.  Finding  herself  over 
matched,  Sister  Todhunter  gave  vent  to  a  shrill 
scream  that  brought  Colonel  Todhunter  to  her  side  in 
repentance  and  alarm.  He  attempted  to  soothe  her, 
but  she  was  no  sooner  lifted  into  the  wagon  than  she 
kicked  the  dash-board  off  and  seized  him  by  the  ear. 
It  took  the  efforts  of  the  crowd  again  to  release  him. 


;  Elder  Hamlin  overboard." 


SISTEK   TODHUNTER'S  HEART.  153 

Elder  Hamlin,  who  had  recovered  his  wind  and  ral 
lied,  here  climbed  into  the  wagon  with  the  others  to 
help  hold  her,  while  the  rest  hitched  up  her  mules. 
Then,  led  by  Billy,  her  ten-year-old  son,  who  had 
matched  the  proceedings  in  sullen  silence,  the  strange 
load  moved  off,  a  delegation  accompanying  it  to  keep 
things  straight.  As  they  crossed  the  creek,  Sister 
Todhunter  by  a  sudden  movement  managed  to  throw 
Elder  Hamlin  overboard.  He  stood  up  in  the  water 
and  swore  a  great  round  oath-  that  horrified  every 
body.  But  Sister  Todhuuter  laughed  hysterically. 

"Put  him  out,  put  him  out  er  Moun'  Zion  too! 
Don't  yer  hear  him  er  cussin'  back  there?"  Elder 
Hamlin  had  retired  to  the  bank,  and  was  denouncing 
the  whole  race  of  obstreperous  women,  but  not  swear 
ing.  His  one  oath  was  confessed  in  open  meeting 
afterward,  and  willingly  forgiven. 

This,  however,  was  Sister  Todhunter's  last  effort. 
She  was  seized  with  a  collapse  on  reaching  home,  and 
begged  to  be  placed  on  the  grass.  There  sitting,  she 
declared  that  death  was  near,  and  begged  them  to 
leave  her.  Her  husband  came  up  and  ministered  to 
her,  and  she  was  heard  to  ask  Billy  to  lead  her  to  the 
well,  as  she  wanted  to  jump  in  and  end  her  misery ; 
and  Billy  told  her  he  wished  she  would.  Then  the 
committee  returned.  It  transpired  afterward  that  Sis 
ter  Todhunter  rallied  enough  to  go  into  the  house, 
and,  in  a  sudden  return  of  her  passion,  slammed 


154  SISTER   TODHUNTER'S  HEART. 

the  door  on  the  neck  of  Colonel  Todhunter,  wh( 
incautiously  looked  in,  and  held  him  a  prisoner  unti 
a  mutual  understanding  was  effected.  As  may  b< 
well  understood,  the  terms  were  not  liberal  fo] 
Colonel  Todhunter. 


"The  terms  were  not  liberal  for  Colonel  Todhunter." 
(Page  154.) 


IV. 

OF  course  Sister  Todhunter  was  summarily  expelled 
from  the  church.  The  affair  furnished  Sweetwater 
with  a  sensation  for  several  weeks,  but  by  and  by  it 
grew  to  be  an  old  topic,  and  Sister  Todhunter  could 
venture  into  town  upon  her  shopping  without  attract 
ing  universal  attention  and  comment.  She  was  a 
cash  customer,  a  fact  that  helped  wonderfully  to  gain 
her  defenders,  and,  besides,  many  people  regarded 
her  as  victorious  in  the  church  fight,  and  enjoyed  the 
way  she  laid  about  her.  But  there  was  no  friendship 
between  the  female  side  of  Sweetwater  and  Sister 
Todhunter.  She  had  talked  too  plainly. 

READER,  did  you  ever  see  a  baby  fade  away  with 
out  apparent  cause,  baffling  the  oldest  physicians  and 
wringing  the  very  life  from  its  mother,  hour  by  hour, 
day  by  day  ? — watch  its  poor  little  face  grow  old  and 
pinched,  and  its  great  eyes  grow  brighter  until  they 
seemed  to  burn  like  candle-flames  in  the  empty  sock 
ets?  So  faded  the  little  babe  that  nestled  in  the 
depths  of  its  soft  nest  when  the  parson's  wife  showed 

155 


156  SISTER   TODHUNTEE'S  HEART. 

the  assembled  matrons  of  Sweetwater  lier  laces  and 
curtains  in  the  shadowed  room  back  of  the  parlor. 
Day  by  day  the  mother  sat  in  her  low  rocker,  her 
tender  eyes  upon  the  wasting  form,  a  fever  in  her 
own  brain,  and  a  weight  upon  her  heart  that  had 
driven  out  every  tear-drop  and  left  her  powerless  to 
weep.  By  day  and  by  night  she  sat  there,  bathing 
the  babe  in  the  dry  grief  of  despair.  The  little  frame 
lay  bared  before  her  —  legs  of  a  thimble's  thickness, 
with  the  skin  crumpled  upon  them,  arms  that  were 
the  arms  of  a  doll,  and  hands  that  scarce  checked  the 
light  that  fell  upon  them  when  the  mother  lifted 
them  again  and  again  in  her  mute  despair. 

The  doctor  had  yielded  up  hope :  save  one  or  two, 
the  neighbors,  worn  out,  had  withdrawn ;  and  to-day, 
the  day  of  which  I  write,  the  mother  sat  waiting  for 
the  rustle  of  the  angel's  wing. 

As  there  she  sat,  suddenly  the  doorway  was  dark 
ened,  and  Sister  Todhunter  from  the  mountain  of  her 
awful  presence  looked  down  upon  the  scene. 

"Why  hain't  you  sent  fur  me?"  she  said  bluffly. 
Parson  Riley's  wife  looked  up  and  then  back  again. 
She  did  not  comprehend  that  she  was  addressed. 
Sister  Todhunter  looked  at  the  baby.  Then  she  ran 
her  hands  under  it  gently  and  raised  ib,  pillow  and  all. 
'T  was  but  a  feather's  weight.  The  mother  yielded 
meekly,  and  fastened  her  eyes  anxiously  upon  the 
great  rescuer  who  had  arrived. 


:I  've  seen  many  er  sicker  kitten  'n  this  git  well." 


SISTER  TODHUNTER1  S  HEART.  157 

"  Is  there  any  hope  ? "  she  asked  humbly. 

"Hope?"  Sister  Todhunter  gave  her  a  look  of 
scorn.  "  I  should  say  so !  I  Ve  seen  many  er  sicker 
kitten  'n  this  git  well.  Go  git  me  some  mullein." 

"  Mullein  ? " 

"  Yes,  mullein.  Don't  yer  know  mullein  when  you 
see  hit  ?  "  Parson  Riley's  wife  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"  I  have  never  seen  any,"  she  said. 

"Well,  go  an'  tell  the  cook  ter  bring  me  some. 
Lord,  what  sorter  women  will  the  nex'  set  be !  Never 
seen  mullein!"  But  the  mother  was  gone,  and  the 
lady  who  had  been  keeping  her  company  turned  up 
her  nose  and  silently  followed  her.  The  cook  had 
heard  of  mullein,  fortunately,  which  grows  wild  in  all 
Georgia,  and  soon  appeared  with  some. 

"  So,"  said  Sister  Todhunter  contentedly  when  she 
saw  it.  "Now  go  make  some  strong  tea  outer  hit. 
Make  hit  with  milk."  The  cook  hurried  away.  Every 
body  seemed  to  gain  life  when  Sister  Todhunter  took 
command.  The  tea  soon  arrived,  and  the  new  nurse 
administered  a  couple  of  teaspoonfuls. 

"  He  can't  retain  anything  a  moment,"  said  the 
mother ;  "  it  is  no  use  to  torture  him  any  more." 

"  Will  yer  hush  ? "  Sister  Todhunter  almost  shouted 
the  question.  "  Don't  yer  reck'n  I  've  seen  er  sick 
baby  'fore  now  ? " 

Parson  Riley's  wife  "hushed"  and  became  a  mute 
observer.  The  child  retained  the  food,  and  presently 


158  SISTER   TODHUNTER  >S  HEART. 

Sister  Todhunter  gave  it  more.  The  second  time  its 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  cup,  and  its  little  lips  were 
feebly  raised  to  meet  it.  It  drank  half  a  cupful,  then 
turned  its  face  on  Sister  Todhunter's  broad  knee  and 
slept.  Seeing  this,  a  great  hope  grew  in  its  mother's 
heart,  and  peered  like  an  imprisoned  spirit  through  her 
anxious  eyes.  Metaphorically,  she  began  to  lean  upon 
the  vast  figure  by  her  side,  which  seemed  so  confident 
and  resourceful. 

"  Lay  down,"  said  Sister  Todhunter  bluntly,  look 
ing  up  into  the  face  fixed  so  hungrily  upon  hers. 
The  young  woman's  eyes  grew  wistful  and  be 
seeching. 

"I  can't  sleep,"  she  said,  "and  my  baby  dying." 
Sister  Todhunter  gave  her  a  peculiar  look. 

"  Of  all  the  fools ! "  she  began,  then  changed  her 
mind.  "  Lay  down  right  there  on  the  bed  an'  watch 
me.  The  baby  ain't  er-dyin'."  And  moved  by  some 
strange  power  the  mother  obeyed. 

The  baby  slept.  One,  two,  three,  four  hours  passed. 
Then  it  waked.  The  warm  mullein  and  milk  was 
ready,  and  it  drank  again.  Again  it  slept,  and  the 
mother  lying  there  silently  drifted  away  into  dream 
land  too,  for  the  first  time  in  many  days,  and  slept 
the  sleep  of  exhaustion. 

*  Thus  Parson  Riley  found  them  in  the  almost  sound 
less  twilight,  when,  hurrying  back  from  the  death 
bed  of  a  distant  friend  who  had  sent  for  him,  he 


SISTER   TODHVNTER'S  HEART.  159 

tiptoed  into  the  room.  If  he  had  been  confronted 
with  Beelzebub  himself  he  could  not  have  been  more 
astonished.  He  gazed  upon  the  sleeping  wife  and 
burly  nurse,  in  whose  broad  lap  slumbered  the  little 
one  he  loved  better  than  life,  but  whom,  as  he  rode 
homeward  through  the  lonely  pine-lands,  he  had 
yielded  up  to  its  Maker.  His  face  flushed.  The 
woman  raised  one  hand,  swept  a  glance  over  the  two 
sleepers,  and  then  motioned  to  the  door.  Parson 
Riley  bent  his  head  and  noiselessly  passed  out.  He 
stood  among  the  jasmines  at  his  gate,  with  his  pale 
face  turned  up  to  the  blue  sky,  which  seemed  so  near 
him  there,  making  no  sound ;  and  it  seemed  to  him  as 
he  waited  that  a  mystery  was  unfurled  about  him,  and 
he  grew  and  broadened  under  its  touch. 

Still  the  suns  glided  by,  but  the  child  lived  —  lived 
and  grew  strong.  One  day  Colonel  Todhunter  drove 
the  mules  up  to  the  front  door  and  halted  them. 
Sister  Todhunter  placed  the  infant  in  its  mother's  lap 
and  said : 

"Keep  him  on  mullein  and  milk  a  while  longer. 
He  's  all  right  now. —  Shet  up ! "  she  added,  seeing 
the  mother's  eyes  fill  with  tears  and  her  bosom  heave ; 
"  an'  if  yer  need  me,  sen'  down." 

"  You  saved  my  child,"  sobbed  Parson  Riley's  wife, 
"  and  I  '11  pray  for  you  always." 

"  Me  saved  him !  That  's  er  pretty  thing  fur  er 
preacher's  wife  ter  say !  The  Lord  did  it,  chile, — 


160  SISTER   TODRUNTER'S  HEART. 

the  Lord  and  his  mullein  tea."  She  nearly  crushed 
the  life  out  of  Parson  Biley  in  her  hurry  to  get 
out. 

"  Madam,"  he  began,  seizing  one  of  her  hands. 

"  Shet  up  ! "  she  replied,  snatching  it  away.  He 
looked  at  her  beseechingly. 

"  Won't  you  let  me  thank  you  ?  "  he  said ;  "  and  — 
won't  you  let  me  say  something  about  that  other 
matter?" 

She  laughed.  "  Not  now,  Parson.  I  'm  goin'  home, 
an'  the  Lord  knows  how  I  will  find  things  there,  fur 
'twixt  Billy  and  Mr.  Todhunter  the  chances  fur  the'r 
goin'  wrong  is  the  bes'  in  the  worl'.  But,  Parson,  you 
can  study  on  supp'n.  When  yer  go  ter  turn  ernother 
woman  out  er  church,  don't  yer  go  ter  the  neigh 
bors  fur  her  character,  nor  ter  her  husbau',  if  he 
happens  ter  be  a  triflin'  kind  er  man;  but  come 
straight  to  headquarters.  Trouble  and  worry  some 
times  sorter  crusts  over  er  woman's  heart,  so  that 
ev'ybody  can't  see  hit,  Parson,  but  hit 's  there  all  the 
same."  She  got  upon  the  block  and  clambered  into 
the  wagon,  where  in  deafness  sat  her  liege  lord. 
"  Good-bye,  Parson/'  she  said,  as  they  drove  off.  "  I  'm 
glad  ther  baby  7s  men  din'.  Keep  him  011  mullein 
tea."  The  parson  lifted  his  hat. 

"Grod  bless  you,  madam,"  he  said  tearfully.  He 
watched  them  as  they  rolled  down  the  lane.  The 
wheel  struck  a  stump. 


SISTER   TODHUNTER'S  HEART.  161 

"  Did  anybody  ever  see  sech  er  man  ?  "  he  heard  her 
shout.  "  Gimme  them  lines ! "  He  saw  the  colonel 
rock  violently  as  the  reins  were  wrenched  out  of 
his  hands,  and  then  his  patient  little  hairless  head 
with  its  broad  ears  settle  down  between  his  shoul 
ders  again.  Presently  a  turn  in  the  road  hid  them 
from  sight. 


"  DE  VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER » 


I. 


LOG  hut  with  a  stack  chimney,  at  the 
foot  of  a  long,  low  hill  where  the 
path  that  winds  around  it  disappears 
under  a  great  spreading  black-gum; 
,  another  log  hut  with  a  stack  chimney, 
over  by  a  belt  of  pine  woods ;  and  another  of  like 
build  beyond,  where  a  group  of  water-oaks  marks  a 
bend  in  the  swamp ;  and  others  still,  right  and  left  in 
the  distance,  until  the  number  runs  up  into  the 
dozens  —  this  is  Black  Ankle.  But  not  all  of  it. 
Yonder  are  a  shed  and  a  corn-crib,  and  a  leaning 
stack  of  fodder,  and  a  blue-stem  collard  patch,  and 
snake  fences,  and  vehicles  that  have  stood  in  the 
weather  until  sunstruck ;  a  forlorn  mule ;  a  cow  that 
all  her  life  has  evidently  practiced  the  precept,  "  It  is 
better  to  give  than  to  receive  " ;  a  stray  hen  with  her 
little  family  under  a  gorgeous  sunflower  —  this  is 
Black  Ankle. 

But  hold !     There  are  little  negroes  in  single  gar 
ments  that  reach  to  their  knees  only,  and  the  ten- 

1C2 


"DE    VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER."  163 

year-old  girl  bearing  in  her  arms  the  infant.  There 
are  the  clothes  fluttering  on  the  knotted  lines  propped 
up  by  fork  saplings.  There  are  black  women,  with 
tucked-up  dresses,  scrubbing  over  the  wash-tub,  and 
in  the  air  the  marvelously  mellow  plantation  hymn, 
and  on  the  ground  the  shadow  of  the  circling  hawk, 
and  the  grasshopper  balancing  himself  in  mid  air, 
and  the  dipping  mocking-bird  on  the  haw-bush.  Ah, 
now  indeed  is  this  Black  Ankle  ! 

The  sun  had  gone  down,  and  the  shadows  were 
creeping  out  of  the  swamp,  veiling  Black  Ankle.  All 
the  poverty  sign-boards  were  buried  in  the  gloom, 
and  where  the  cabins  stood  fiery  eyes  twinkled  through 
the  night.  But  under  the  great  black-gum,  where 
the  spring  gushed,  a  pine-knot  fire  blazed  merrily, 
piling  up  the  shadows  and  painting  in  waving 
light  the  cabin  front.  The  little  porch,  over  which 
ran  the  morning-glory  and  the  cypress-vine,  stood 
forth  as  though  projected  by  the  brush  of  a  mighty 
artist.  From  every  direction,  by  every  path,  there 
came  dusky  figures,  the  simple  children  of  the  soil, 
filling  the  air  with  songs  and  laughter,  and  passed 
into  the  light.  In  a  chair  upon  a  table,  his  back 
against  the  black-gum,  sat  a  little  wrinkled  fiddler 
with  his  battered  instrument  under  his  chin,  the  bow 
twisting  and  sawing.  And  by  his  side,  drumming  on 
the  strings  with  a  straw,  stood  a  boy,  who  ever  and 
anon  turned  his  head  to  laugh  at  some  gay  sally  from 


164  "DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER." 

the  company  gathered  upon  the  smooth  and  well- 
trodden  ground.  A  favorite  dancer  exhibited  his 
skill  until  breathless,  and  was  turning  away  amid 
the  plaudits  of  the  crowd  when  a  young  woman 
forced  her  way  in,  crying  : 

"  Git  erway,  niggers ;  lemme  come  !  "  The  crowd 
shouted,  "  Lou,  Lou  ! "  "  Lou  '11  knock  de  shine  off 
er  'im."  "  You  got  ter  shuffP  now,  Beeswing." 

The  teeth  of  the  young  man  who  beat  with  the 
straw  shone  whiter  and  broader  as  a  short,  active 
girl  broke  into  the  circle.  Beeswing  grinned. 

"  Come  back,  nigger,'1  she  cried.  The  crowd  laughed 
again,  and  as  the  girl's  feet  began  to  keep  time  with 
the  music,  a  dozen  hands  patted  upon  as  many  thighs, 
and  a  voice,  to  which  the  chorus  replied,  added  words 
to  the  strains  of  the  fiddle,  the  dancer  adapting  her 
steps  to  the  hints  given : 

"  Shuffl',  littl'  Lou ;  "  Pretty  littl'  Lou  ; 

Pretty  littl'  Lou  ;  Come  'long,  Lou; 

Same  as  you  ;  Pretty  littl'  Lou ; 

Pretty  littl'  Lou ;  Back  step,  Lou ; 

My  gal  too;  Pretty  littl' Lou; 

Pretty  littl'  Lou ;  Pretty  littl'  Lou ; 

Forwood  too ;  Look  at  Lou! " 

The  dancer  held  her  dress  back  and  "walked 
around,"'  turning  her  toes  in,  and  the  crowd  laughed. 
But  the  song  continued  : 

"  Pretty  littl'  Lou ;  "Pretty  littl'  Lou ; 

Pretty  littl'  Lou  ;  Balunce  too ; 

Cross-step  Lou  ;  Pretty  littl'  Lou." 


"DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER."  165 

The  girl  whirled  around  amidst  a  cloud  of  cotton, 
revealing  her  ankles,  and  the  leader  started  the  laugh 
by  chiming  in,  followed  by  the  refrain,  again  : 

"Oomoomoo;  "  See  yer  froo ; 

Pretty  littl'  Lou ;  Pretty  littl'  Lou ; 

Short  dog  Lou ;  Turkey  trot  Lou ; 

Pretty  littl'  Lou ;  Pretty  littl'  Lou ; 

Pidgin  wing  Lou  ;  Shuffl',  littl'  Lou  ; 

Pretty  littl'  Lou ;  Pretty  littl'  Lou." 

Beeswing  broke  out  of  the  circle,  and  the  dance 
ended  amid  the  shouts  of  the  company. 

The  tune  changed.  Old  Morris,  the  fiddler,  began 
a  quaint  march,  and  two  by  two  the  dancers  prom 
enaded  around,  the  clear  voices  of  the  women  leading 
the  song : 

"  Turn  'er  high,  turn  lady, 

Turn  lor'. 

Turn  dat  lady  Cymlin  ; 

Turn  'er  high,  turn  lady, 

Turn  lor'. 

Turn  dat  lady  'roun'." 

The  men  turned  their  partners  with  one  hand  held 
overhead,  and  "  the  lady  "  spun  until  her  dress  swelled 
out  like  a  balloon.  Then  she  bowed  and  the  men 
patted  quick  time,  all  singing,  while  their  partners 
sprang  to  the  center  and  danced : 

"  Knock  candy,  Candy  gal ; 
Knock  candy,  Candy  gal ; 
No  harm  to  knock  candy ; 


166  "BE    VALLEY  AS'  DE  SHADDEX." 

"LittP  in  de  wais'  an'  pretty  in  de  face  ; 
No  harm  to  knock  candy ; 
Two  ways  to  knock  Candy  gal ; 
No  harm  to  knock  candy." 

Again  came  the  quaint  song,  "  Turn  ?er  high,  turn 
lady";  again  the  slow  march,  and  again  the  whirl. 
This  time  the  men  sprang  to  the  center,  and  old 
Morris,  sweeping  his  head  to  his  knee,  struck  up  a 
breakdown,  to  which  the  women  sang : 

"You  siT  de  meal,  you  gimme  de  husk; 
You  bake  de  bread,  you  gimme  de  crus' ; 
You  bile  de  pot,  you  gimme  de  grease ; 
Ole  Kate,  git  over ; 
Git  over,  old  Kate ; 
Git  over ! " 

Several  verses  followed,  first  the  women  dancing, 
then  the  men,  ever  returning  to  the  promenade  song. 

Dance  followed  dance,  jig,  shuffle,  song,  and  refrain, 
and  the  hours  glided  by.  A  tiny  silver  crescent  was 
the  moon,  but  it  had  long  since  sunk  behind  the  hill. 
Old  Morris  nodded,  but  his  bow  kept  moving.  "  Wake 
up,  old  man,"  shouted  a  voice  as  the  rout  went  round. 
"  Hush  yo'  mouf,  nigger,"  he  answered  back.  "  Dis 
fiddle  knows  me,  an'  hit  'u'd  keep  er-singin'  ef  I  uz  to 
go  plum  ter  sleep  "  ;  and  the  livelier  wave  in  "  Sallie 
Gooden,"  which  the  interruption  had  stimulated, 
faded  away  into  monotony  again. 

So  went  the  night.  But  a  gaunt  spectre  stood 
unseen  on  the  black  bank  of  shadows  piled  up  be- 


"DE   VALLEY  AN1  DE  SRADDER."  167 

youd  the  gumtree.  Into  these  old  plantation  dances, 
harmless  once  and  picturesque,  had  come,  with  the 
new  freedom,  a  new  element.  On  the  porch  in  the 
shadow,  where  he  had  rolled  over  unnoticed,  stupid 
with  drink,  lay  Ben  Thomas,  the  host.  A  heavy, 
brawny  negro,  he  seemed  some  fifty  years  old  when 
the  stirred  logs  flashed  a  light  upon  him.  At  the  far 
end  of  the  little  porch  his  young  mulatto  wife  was 
tossing  small  coins  in  a  circle  of  men,  who  applauded 
when  she  won  and  were  silent  when  she  lost.  Sud 
denly  the  game  ended,  the  woman  empty-handed. 

What  stirred  the  sleeper?  Who  can  tell?  But 
stir  he  did,  then  waked,  and  gazed  about  him.  The 
last  throw  of  the  coin  attracted  his  attention.  He 
felt  in  his  pocket ;  then  letting  his  feet  to  the  ground 
he  staggered  forward  and  supported  his  wavering 
form  against  a  post. 

"  Mandy,"  he  said  gently,  and  he  seemed  to  sober  as 
he  spoke,  "  did  you  tek  my  money  ? " 

"  Yes,"  she  laughed,  "  I  did."  Her  tones  were  care 
less  and  defiant. 

"  Whar  hit,  Mandy  ?  •'» 

"  Whar  you  reck'n?" 

"Whar  hit,  Mandy?"  The  man's  voice  was  still 
calm.  Silence  had  fallen  on  the  group. 

"  Los'." 

"  Oh,  w'at  yer  rnekin'  er  fuss  erbout  er  littl'  money 
fur  ?  Am'  er  man's  wife  got  er  right  ter  hit  ef  hit 's 


168  "  DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER." 

his'n?"  The  speaker  was  a  low-browed,  vicious- 
looking  negro,  Mandy's  late  opponent.  Ben  did  not 
notice  him,  but  returned  to  his  query : 

"  Who  got  dat  money,  Mandy  ? " 

The  gambler  contemptuously  threw  three  silver 
quarters  into  her  lap,  for  she  was  still  sitting. 

"  Heah,  Mandy,  I  len'  you  nuff  ter  pay  'im.  Dern  er 
man  w'at  '11  'buse  es  wife  'fo'  folks,  an'  en  'er  own 
house."  The  gambler  looked  around  for  indorsement, 
but  got  none.  All  eyes  were  upon  the  husband.  He 
stooped  forward  and  took  the  coins,  placing  them  in 
his  pocket. 

"  No-  man  kin  len'  money  ter  my  wife,"  he  said 
gently,  for  the  first  time  addressing  the  gambler ;  "  an' 
hit  am'  len'in'  w'en  money  w'at 's  stole  comes  back." 

"  Who  stole  hit  ?  Who  stole  hit  ? "  A  savage  look 
gleamed  in  the  gambler's  eye. 

"Fuss  she  stole  hit,"  said  the  husband,  "an'  den 
you  stole  hit ;  fur  ter  cheat  er  ooman  es  des  same  es 
stealin'." 

Quick  as  the  spring  of  a  panther  was  the  movement 
of  the  gambler  as  he  threw  himself  upon  the  now 
sober  man  who  had  accused  him.  There  was  a  brief 
struggle;  the  gambler  clasped  one  hand  over  his 
breast  and  staggered.  A  knife  dropped  from  under 
his  hand  as  he  suddenly  extended  his  arm,  and  with 
a  deep  sigh  he  sank  lifeless  in  his  tracks. 

The  crowd  opened,  letting  the  red  firelight  flood  the 


"DE   VALLEY  AN*   DE  SB ADDER.  169 

scene.  Ben  stood  with  folded  arms,  gazing  upon  the 
corpse,  but  like  a  shadow  falling,  the  woman  glided 
from  her  low  perch  by  the  prostrate  figure  and 
snatched  the  bloody  knife  from  the  ground.  For  an 
instant  she  crouched,  her  yellow  face  upturned  to  her 
husband,  a  strange  light  in  her  eyes,  and  her  long 
black  hair  tumbling  down  upon  her  shoulders.  She 
seemed  about  to  spring  at  his  throat.  But  only  for 
an  instant.  The  knife  vanished  in  the  folds  of  her 
dress,  and  she  pointed  straight  into  the  black  depths 
of  the  swamp. 

"  Run,  run ! "  she  whispered.  Ben  gazed  about 
him  defiantly,  then  turned  and  strode  away  into  the 
shadow.  None  pursued.  His  arms  dropped  as  he 
disappeared,  but  no  eye  was  strong  enough  to  follow 
and  see  the  faint  flash  of  light  that  trembled  for  an 
instant  upon  the  steel  in  his  hands,  like  the  glimmer 
of  a  glow-worm  through  the  texture  of  a  dead  leaf. 

The  woman  still  crouched  by  the  corpse,  but  she 
saw  it  not.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  shadow 
that  had  closed  over  her  husband.  Horror  and  fear 
seemed  to  have  frozen  her.  The  wondering  group 
discussed  the  tragedy,  and  constructed  a  rude  litter 
for  the  dead.  But  as  they  bore  the  body  off,  a  man 
approached  her  and  asked  to  see  the  knife.  She 
turned  her  yellow  face  to  his  for  an  instant,  then 
bounded  by  him  and  was  swallowed  up  in  the  swamp. 
Forward  she  went  through  brake  and  bramble.  A 

15 


170  "  DE   VALLEY  AN9  DE  SHADDEE." 

great  gnarled  oak  reached  out  to  stop  her,  but  in 
vain ;  and  from  the  grasp  of  the  bushes  that  clutched 
her  she  rushed  madly.  Suddenly  the  silent  stretch  of 
a  great  lagoon  was  before  her.  She  lifted  her  arm 
and  frantically  hurled  the  knife  far  out  into  the 
night.  No  sound  came  back,  though  she  held  her 
breath  until  her  eyes  started  from  their  sockets.  But 
yes,  at  last  —  a  far,  faint  splash,  as  when  a  cooter 
glides  from  his  log  and  seeks  his  couch  in  the  slime 
below. 

"  Ben  ! "  she  whispered,  "  Ben ! "  There  was  no 
answer.  "  Ben ! "  This  time  it  was  a  scream.  A 
thousand  echoes  darted  here  and  there  in  the  sound 
ing  swamp,  and  as  they  died  away  a  strange,  sad  sigh 
was  wafted  out  of  the  depths.  Turning,  she  fled  back 
to  life,  pursued  by  a  host  of  terrors.  How  she 
reached  it  she  knew  not,  but  presently  she  fell  pros 
trate  upon  the  floor  of  the  cabin.  Crouching  there 
in  the  shadow  was  the  aged  form  of  her  husband's 
mother,  crooning  to  his  babe.  Neither  spake,  and 
lying  on  her  face  the  young  woman  spent  the  remain 
ing  hours  of  the  night.  But  ever  and  anon  she  heard 
the  splash  of  the  knife  in  the  waters,  the  echoes  calling 
"  Ben,"  and  that  strange,  sad  sigh  of  the  spirit  as  it 
left  the  dead  man's  body. 


II 

WEEKS  passed.  The  little  brown  baby  fell  to  the 
care  of  its  grandmammy.  A  spell  was  upon  Mandy. 
With  her  long  hair  down  upon  her  shoulders,  elbows 
upon  her  knees,  and  face  in  her  hands,  she  sat  by  the 
hour  under  the  great  black-gum,  gazing  down  into 
the  shadowy  depths  of  the  swamp.  With  an  intuition 
and  refinement  of  kindness  not  uncommon  to  the 
race,  the  elder  woman  kept  silent  upon  the  events  of 
that  dreadful  night.  Not  once  did  she  refer  to  the 
tragedy,  not  once  to  the  wild  life  of  the  young  wife 
of  which  it  was  the  culmination, —  wild,  for  it  had 
been  the  same  old  story  of  mismated  ages  and  foolish 
playing  with  fire.  Quietly  she  had  gone  on  doing 
the  cooking  and  the  washing,  and  the  little  brown 
baby,  as  she  toiled,  played  with  its  rag  doll,  and 
preached  to  the  sleepy  cat.  When  the  baby  cried  for 
food  she  placed  it  in  its  mother's  arms,  where,  as  it 
lay,  Mandy  studied  the  round  face  vaguely.  But  no 
tear  fell  upon  the  child,  and  the  old  mammy  wondered 
as  she  watched  the  two. 

"  Mandy  ain1  come  'roun'  yit,"  she  said  to  a  neigh 
bor  once.  "De  Lord  es  'flictin'  her  mighty  hebby; 

171 


172  "DE    VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER." 

but  she'll  come  bimeby,  she'll  come  bimeby."  Yet 
the  time  seemed  long. 

One  day,  as  thus  they  sat,  the  Rev.  Kesiah  Toomer, 
or  "Unc'  'Siah,"  as  he  was  called,  leaned  over  the 
split-oak  picket.  His  aged  face,  full  of  wrinkles,  and 
its  white  eyebrows,  beamed  down  kindly  upon  them. 

"  Mornin',  Aunt  Charlotte,"  he  said,  touching  the 
battered  old  straw  hat  that  kept  the  sun  from  his 
bald  head  and  its  kinky  fringe  of  snowy  hair ;  "  how 
you  do  des  mornin'  ? "  His  was  a  soft,  flexible  voice, 
full  of  conciliatory  curves. 

"  I  'm  toler'ble,"  replied  the  woman  simply. 

"  How  Mandy  ? " 

"  She  's  toler'ble."  The  young  woman  was  dream 
ing  into  the  depths,  and  heard  nothing. 

"Howlittl'Ben?" 

"He's  toler'ble." 

"How  Sis' Harriett" 

"She's  toler'ble." 

"  Yes  'm."  Unc'  'Siah's  face  mellowed  a  little  more, 
and  he  shifted  his  weight  to  the  other  foot. 

"How  you,  Unc"Siah?" 

"  I  'm  toler'ble,  bless  God  !  " 

"How  Phyllis?" 

"She's  toler'ble." 

"  The  chillun  all  got  weU  ?  " 

"  Yes  'm,  dey  all  toler'ble." 

"  Won't  yer  come  en  an'  res'  ? " 


"DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDEE."  173 

Unc'  'Siah  replied  by  limping  slowly  into  the  yard. 
He  had  a  leg  that  was  stiff  with  rheumatism  and  gave 
him  a  painful-looking  gait.  He  seated  himself  in 
the  splint-bottom  chair  proffered  him.  For  some  time 
he  was  silent.  Every  now  and  then  his  eye  rested 
upon  the  sleeping  child  and  the  brooding  mother. 
Charlotte  knew  that  he  had  something  to  say. 

"  You  seen  Ben  ? "  she  asked  quietly.  The  old  man 
stirred  in  his  seat. 

"  Yes  'HI,"  he  said ;  "  seen  him  yestiddy."  There 
was  a  slight  change  in  the  face  of  Mandy ;  no  move 
ment,  but  the  eyes  seemed  to  lose  their  far-away  look 
and  fix  themselves  on  something  nearer. 

"  Wat  'e  say?" 

"  Well,"  replied  the  old  man,  thrusting  out  his  stiff 
ened  limb,  "  he  ain'  say  much.  Hit 's  mighty  nigh 
unto  fo'  weeks  sence  he  uz  put  en  jail,  an'  dey  es 
gointer  have  es  trial  next  Chuesday."  Then  pres 
ently  :  "  You  bin  deir,  Mandy  ? "  Mandy  turned  her 
hunted  eyes  upon  him. 

"Yes,"  she  whispered,  after  awhile;  "an'  he  druv 
me  'way."  Silence  fell  upon  the  little  group.  The 
old  woman  was  studying  the  face  of  the  man,  turned 
towards  the  ground.  The  other  had  sunk  again  into 
hopelessness  above  the  baby.  Presently  Unc'  'Siah 
spoke : 

"  He  do  say  dat  dem  lyyers  'low  dat  deir  's  mighty 
littl'  chance  fur  'im  'less  'n  dat  knife  er  Bill's  'd  been 


174  "DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDE1R." 

picked  up  by  somebody  w'at  uz  leanin'  ter  our  side  er 
de  case,  'cause  Bill's  name  uz  on  hit,  ef  hit  uz  Bill's, 
an'  'u'd  show  fur  hitse'f.  Plenny  uv  'em  seed  Mandy 
snatch  hit  fum  de  groun',  an'  sum  ses  es  how  et  uz 
Ben's  an'  she  uz  erfeard  ter  show  hit,  an'  sum  ses  es 
how  hit  uz  Bill's  an'  she  uz  er-hidin'  hit  'cause  she 
liked  Bill  more  'n  Ben ;  an'  so  hit  goes.  Now,  ses  I, 
deir  am'  imth'n'  en  dat,  an'  Mandy  '11  sw'ar  in  de  court 
house  she  flung  hit  en  de  swamp  fur  Ben's  'thout 
lookin'  at  hit, —  des  like  you  say,  honey, —  but  dey  'low, 
does  dem  lyyers,  es  how  Mandy,  bein'  de  prisoner's 
wife,  can't  sw'ar  en  de  case.  But  ef  de  knife  uz  deir, 
ses  dey,  hit  'u'd  tork  fur  hitse'f,  'cause  deir  ain'  no 
'sputin'  de  name,  an'  Sam  Toliver  an'  Bob  John  sin 
knowed  hit  by  sight.  You  could  n't  fin'  hit,  you 
reck'n,  Sis' Mandy?"  The  woman  shuddered.  "No," 
she  said,  "I  bin  deir  en  the  day,  but  de  place  es 
changed  fum  en  de  night ;  an'  et  night, —  I  can't  go 
deir,  Unc'  'Siah  !  I  can't  go  deir !  An'  hit  ain'  no  use 
ter  go  en  de  dark,  an'  hit  en  de  water."  Unc'  'Siah 
was  silent  a  moment.  Presently  he  added : 

"  Ben  ses,  ses  he, '  Ef  Marse  Bob  uz  heah  hit  'u'd  be 
all  right.'  But  deir  ain'  no  chance  now,  fur  'e  live 
'way  off  yander  sebenty  odd  mile,  an'  no  railroad  half 
way.  An'  heah  't  is  er  Thu'sday  'bout  sundown." 
Mandy  turned  her  face  to  his,  but  his  eyes  looked 
away,  and  he  had  given  himself  up  to  reflection. 
Presently  he  said,  as  if  addressing  no  one  in  par 
ticular  : 


"DE   VALLEY  AN1  DE  SH ADDER"  175 

"  My  ole  Mis'  tell  me  oncst,  '  'Siah,'  ses  she,  des  so, 
'  w'en  de  heart  es  sick  an'  lonesome  deir  ain'  no  med'- 
cin'  like  work.  Ef  you  got  ter  set  down  an'  study 
'bout  hit  hit 's  gointer  eat,  es  dis  heah  sickness ;  but 
ef  you  es  er-workiu',  hit  gits  out  into  suthin'  else.' 
Lord,  but  she  live  up  ter  hit  too ;  an'  w'en  Marse  Sam 
uz  shot  et  Chinck'nhominy,  es  dey  say,  she  tu'n  en  an' 
cut  up  cyarpets  fur  de  sogers,  an'  knit  socks,  an' 
scrape  lint  twell  bimeby  hit  uz  all  done ;  an'  one  day 
I  seen  'er  pickin'  cotton  in  de  orchud  patch  like  er 
common  nigger,  an'  I  ses  den,  '  Ole  Mis',  hit 's  er  sin 
an'  er  shame  fur  you  ter  do  like  dat.'  An'  right  deir 
she  lif  up  'er  han's,  dat  de  sun  almos'  shine  troo,  an' 
say, '  G  imme  work  ter  do,  'Siah ;  gimme  work  ter  do  ! ' 
An'  lemme  tell  yer,  right  deir,  too,  I  broke  down. 
But  hit  kep'  'er  up,  an'  she  ain'  dead  yit,  but  as  peart 
as  anybody.  Yes,  sir,  work  es  er  big  t'ing  for  hebby 
eyes." 

On  the  face  of  the  yellow  woman  over  her  babe 
a  thought  was  dawning.  A  new  spirit  shone  in  her 
eyes,  and  a  quickening  breath  shook  her  form.  As 
she  gazed  upon  the  old  man  he  took  a  pair  of  silver- 
rimmed  spectacles  from  his  pocket  and  adjusted  them. 
Then  he  drew  out  a  worn  Bible.  The  woman  sank 
back  again,  but  the  thought  in  her  eyes  remained. 

"  Sis'  Mandy,"  said  he,  "  let  de  Lord  speak,  fur  deir 's 
trouble  in  sto'  fur  you  an'  yourn."  Charlotte  rested 
her  chin  upon  her  hand,  and  her  knitting,  which  she 


176  "VE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SH ADDER." 

had  drawn  out,  dropped  to  the  ground.  The  old  man 
began,  but  his  progress  was  slow.  He  had  to  spell 
out  many  words,  and  explain  as  he  read : 

"  'De  Lord  es  my  sJieppud,  I  shall  not  ivant.'  Bless 
de  Lord  fur  dat !  '  Shall  not  want ' ;  you  heah  dat, 
Sis'  Mandy ;  not  want  fur  nuth'n'.  Don'  care  w'at  hit 
es,  you  shall  not  want  hit  long,  sha'n't  keep  on  er- 
want'n'  hit  ef  de  Lord  es  yo'  sheppud  —  an'  you  es 
one  er  de  flock.  No,  chile  ! 

"  '  He  makes  me  to  lay  down  in  green  pastures,  'e  leads 
me  beside  de  still  ivatersj —  yes,  Lord,  we  know  w'at 
dat  means  fur  er  sheep, —  whar  de  grass  es  long  an' 
green  an'  de  water  es  cole,  an'  deir  es  shade  all  day 
long ;  dat 's  de  place  fur  yo'  sheep  an'  yo'  lam's. 

"'He  resto'ith  my  soul;  lie  leads  up  de  paf  er  de 
righteous  fur  es  name'  sake.'  Des  heah  dat !  Hit  makes 
no  diffunce  whar  dat  paf  es  er-goin' ;  by  de  big  road, 
or  ercross  de  corn-rows,  or  troo  de  swamp  hitse'f, — 
he  7s  gointer  lead  de  way;  an'  hit  's  all  de  same  ef 
hit 's  day  or  night ;  hit 's  all  one  wid  de  Lord. 

" l  Yea,  though  I  walk  troo  de  valley  er  de  shadder  er 
death,  I  HI  fear  no  devil,'  —  no,  sir-r-r!  No  devil 
gointer  hu't  you  deir,  fur  deir 's  er  han'  en  de  shadder, 
an'  hit 's  more  ?n  er  match  fur  him  and  his  kind  ;  dat 
hit  es ! 

"  '  Fur  thou  art  wid  me,  thy  rod  an'  thy  staff  dey  com 
forts  me.'  Oh,  yes,  chillun,  Jesus  es  deir  by  de  side 
er  da  troo  berlievers,  ef  dey  only  knowed  hit.  An' 


Tek  de  baby,  Mammy." 


"DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER."  177 

w'en  dey  es  come  out  er  de  valley  "an'  de  shadder, 
w'at  den! 

"  '  Thou  prepares1  er  table  fur  me  en  de  presunce  uv 
my  enemies  :  thou  a-n-o-i-n-t-e-t-h  my  head  with  oil,  an' 
my  cup  hit  runs  over.'  —  Dat  '11  be  er  happy  day  den ! 
Oh,  yes,  oh,  yes,  w'en  de  cup  es  full  de  heart  es  full, 
an'  de  eyes  dey  runs  ober,  'cause  uv  de  fullness  erway 
down  below ;  yes,  ma'am.  Wen  dat  tayble  es  spread 
hit  '11  make  anybody's  eyes  run  over;  barbecued 
shote,  br'iled  chicken,  fat  ham,  biscuits,  white  bread, 
'simmun  beer,  all  spread  right  deir  en  de  presunce  er 
de  enemy,  de  ole  devil  hisse'f  fairly  bustin'  wid  hunger 
an'  spite,  but  pow'less,  'cause  de  sheppud  es  deir  ter 
guard  de  lam's. 

"  An'  w'en  hit 's  all  done  w'at  ses  de  prophet  ?  Wen 
de  hard  heart  done  lay  down  hits  load  an'  de  feet 
been  en  de  valley  an'  de  shadder,  an'  by  de  waters  an' 
'cross  de  pastures  er-fearin'  nuth'n',  w'at  den? 

" l  Sholy  ! '  ses  he, '  slioly  ! '  —  oh,  hit 's  er  great  word 
is  dat  sholy, — '  sholy  goodness  an'  mussy  shall  f oiler 
me  all  de  days  er  my  life,  art  I'll  dwell  den  en  de  house 
er  de  Lord.'  Bless  him  fur  de  promise ! " 

'Si ah  closed  his  book,  and  drew  off  his  glasses, 
and  wiped  them  carefully  upon  the  lining  of  his  coat. 
But  the  young  woman  stood  up  with  the  new  thought 
fairly  speaking  in  her  round  brown  eyes,  and  a  new 
vigor  trembling  in  her  frame. 

"Tek  de  baby,  Mammy,"  she  almost  shouted,  plac- 


178  "DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SRADDEE.1" 

ing  little  Ben  in  the  other's  lap.  "  I  'in  er-goin ', — 
don't  you  heahf —  I'm  goiii'  troo  de  valley  an'  de 
shadder  an'  by  de  waters  an'  cross  de  pastures  twell 
He  show  me  Marse  Bob  !  I  bin  bline,  Mammy,  I  bin 
bline,  but  I  ain't  bline  now !  He  done  op'n  my  eyes 
an'  I  see  de  way.  Good-bye !  Good-bye,  Mammy ! 
Good-bye,  Unc'  'Siah !  Keep  de  baby  en  yo'  bed, 
Mammy,  en  de  night,  an'  don't  let  'im  cry  fur  me. — 
En  de  valley  an'  de  shadder  an'  by  de  pastures  !  — En 
yo'  bed,  Mammy  —  " 

She  turned  away.  Her  voice  died  out  as  she  passed 
beyond  the  live-oaks,  but  like  a  wind-whisper  among 
the  pines  it  returned  once  more — "en  y o'  bed."  Then, 
and  then  only,  did  Unc'  'Siah  lift  up  his  face  from  his 
hands  and  fix  it  skyward. 

"  De  Lord  he  has  spoke  at  las'.  Hit 's  all  right, 
Sis'  Charlotte.  De  Lord's  han'  es  er-reachiu'  out  fur 
Ben.  Dat  es  Bill's  knife." 

Charlotte  spoke  not.  Bending  until  her  head  rested 
against  the  one  ragged  garment  of  the  sleeping  child, 
she  rocked  him  in  silence.  The  old  man  gazed  upon 
her  doubtfully,  but  presently  he  rose,  and  in  silence 
too  limped  out  across  the  field. 


III. 

ON  went  the  young  woman,  her  straight,  strong 
limbs  bearing  her  bravely ;  on  into  the  great  road,  on 
through  the  village  with  its  lazy  groups  sitting  about 
in  the  afternoon  shade,  on  past  the  jail,  never  stop 
ping.  She  moved  as  one  in  a  trance,  and  the  strange 
light  shone  from  her  eyes. 

" '  En  de  valley  an'  de  shadder,'  Ben,"  she  shouted, 
"  but  er-fearin'  nuth'n'.  An'  I  'm  comin'  back  leanin' 
on  His  rod  an'  His  staff ;  I  'm  er-comin'  back."  People 
looked  at  her  curiously,  but  she  stopped  for  none. 
The  shadows  fell ;  night  found  her  on  the  lonely 
highway.  The  tall  pines  crooned  above ;  it  seemed 
as  though  a  spirit  sighed  from  the  lips  of  the  dying 
man.  A  whippoorwill  called  from  the  depths  of  the 
forest ;  to  her  it  was  a  voice  from  the  past,  and 
strange  things  caught  at  her  dress  as  she  glided  by. 

" '  En  de  valley  an'  de  shadder/ "  she  whispered, 
"  '  an'  leanin'  on  His  rod  an'  staff.' "  No  moon  rose 
to  comfort  her,  but  a  mocking-bird  sang  as  he  used  to 
sing  in  the  haw-bush  by  the  cabin  when  the  baby  was 
rolling  on  his  back  in  the  sand  and  she  was  sewing. 
On,  never  faltering ;  tired  of  limb,  hungry  and  athirst, 
but  onward  still. 

179 


180  "DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER." 

At  dawn  of  day  she  dropped  down  by  a  friendly 
door  in  the  city's  suburbs,  and  told  her  story.  The 
hospitality  of  the  South  animates  the  humblest  dwell 
ing,  and  the  humbler  the  roof  the  broader  the  unques 
tioning  hospitality.  Her  thirst  quenched,  her  hunger 
appeased,  she  dragged  her  stiffening  limbs  into  a  new 
road,  and  continued  her  journey.  The  sun  came 
forth  and  parched  the  ground,  but  the  trees  lent  her 
shade  here  and  there.  Thirst  came  back,  but  the 
sparkling  brook  danced  across  her  way.  Hunger  too 
came  again,  yet  the  hospitable  cabin  followed  it. 
Night ;  and  sleep,  when,  far  in  the  night,  she  sank  in 
a  fence-corner  murmuring,  " '  En  de  valley  an'  de  shad- 
der.'"  And  as  she  slept,  nothing  evil  passed  the 
sentinel  that  there  stood  guard  beside  her. 

With  the  dawn  the  blistered  feet  resumed  their 
weary  way.  The  history  of  one  day  was  the  history 
of  the  next.  She  started  on  Thursday ;  on  Monday 
morning  she  passed  through  the  great  white  columns 
of  a  princely  home,  and  told  her  story  for  the  last 
time ;  and  at  10  o'clock  the  next  morning  the  trial  of 
Ben  Thomas  for  murder  was  to  begin  at  Jeffersonville, 
in  Twiggs  county,  seventy  odd  miles  away. 

The  evening  of  the  same  day  found  Mandy  back  in 
the  city,  and  with  her  was  a  gray-haired  man  —  Marse 
Bob,  she  called  him  ;  and  the  people  who  passed  him 
on  the  street  touched  their  hats  to  him,  and  looked 
back  as  his  tall  form  went  by.  A  buggy  was  to  bear 


"DE   VALLEY  AN1    DE  SH ADDER."  181 

him  to  Jefferson  ville  in  the  early  morning,  but  for  her 
there  was  work  yet  to  be  done. 

"Wen  you  pass  Black  Ankle,"  she  said  to  him, 
"  I  '11  be  deir."  Before  he  could  stop  her  she  had 
gone. 

Not  a  voice  broke  the  stillness  of  the  hamlet  as  she 
entered  among  the  brooding  cabins,  save  the  far  bark 
ing  of  Bill  Fowler's  dog.  She  had  heard  that  animals 
see  spirits  :  was  he  barking  at  his  master's  ghost  come 
back  again  ?  Her  flesh  crept,  and  she  almost  screamed 
as  she  trod  unawares  on  the  spot  where  the  man  died. 
There  was  no  light  in  the  little  house,  no  sound : 
should  she  enter  ?  The  wail  of  a  baby  came  out  to 
her, —  a  feeble  wail,  as  of  one  sick  or  starving.  She 
laid  her  hand  upon  the  latch. 

"  No,"  she  moaned,  "  not  now.  Hit 's  de  las'  chance, 
de  las'."  She  passed  down  into  the  black  swamp, 
lying  there  in  the  clouded  moon  like  the  grave  itself. 

"  l  En  de  valley  an'  de  shadder,' "  she  whispered, 
"  '  an'  er-fearin'  nuth'n'.'  "  As  she  entered  there,  that 
other  night  came  back,  and  its  horrors  rose  about 
her.  There  was  the  bush  that  clasped  her  knees, 
there  the  crooked  tree  that  barred  the  way,  and  there 
the  tangled  brake. 

Then  the  lagoon,  with  its  wide,  still  stretch  of  water, 
lay  at  her  feet. 

"  Ben ! "  she  called ;  but  the  name  died  on  her 
throat.  She  raised  her  head  again  and  threw  the 

16 


182  "DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDEE" 

knife  with  all  her  might, —  aye,  for  the  handle  seemed 
in  her  grasp  as  hard  and  bloody  as  on  that  fatal 
night !  Yonder  it  would  fall,  she  thought,  straining 
her  eyes  to  where  the  black  night  rested  upon  the 
cold,  pale  sheen  of  waters,  and  lo !  so  it  seemed  to 
fall.  There  came  back  from  the  carpeted  gloom  the 
same  splash !  She  gasped,  and  clutched  an  overhang 
ing  vine. 

" '  En  de  valley  an'  de  shadder,  thy  rod  an'  thy 
staff,  an'  er-fearin'  nuth'n',' "  she  whispered  brokenly ; 
and  so,  half  moaning,  she  let  herself  down  into  the 
silent  water.  The  chilly  flood  rose  to  her  armpits, 
but  she  moved  forward  straight  into  the  gloom. 
Once  she  stumbled,  and  the  flood  rolled  over  her,  but 
straight  on  she  passed,  with  a  precision  seemingly 
supernatural.  As  she  moved  she  felt  with  her  bruised 
and  torn  feet  in  the  soft  ooze  and  in  the  slime ;  slowly 
and  patiently,  for  she  fancied  she  could  tread  every 
foot  of  the  dark  depths  until  the  knife  was  found. 

But  there  is  a  limit  to  human  progress  in  Black 
Ankle  Swamp ;  and  just  as  the  spot  was  reached  to 
which  she  had  calculated  that  her  strength  could  have 
hurled  the  bloody  weapon,  the  ground  passed  from 
under  her  feet.  Frantically  she  clutched  at  a  cypress 
knee  to  draw  back,  when  instantly  a  sharp,  swift  pain 
ran  along  her  arm.  She  had  touched  a  snake,  and  he 
had  struck  his  fangs  into  her  clenched  hand !  She 
must  not  lose  her  hold;  she  did  not.  But  her  lips 


"DE    VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER."  183 

opened  and  sent  up  one  wild,  frenzied  cry  from  that 
dreadful  place, —  "  Oh,  my  God  ! " 

But  what  was  that?  There  was  no  serpent  in  her 
grasp ;  only  the  long,  keen  blade  of  a  knife,  thrust 
into  the  tender  cypress.  Ignorant  and  superstitious, 
her  frame  trembled  with  terror ;  then  the  truth  was 
upon  her.  The  weapon  she  had  hurled  out  into  the 
night  had  stuck  where  it  had  struck;  the  splash  was  the 
plunge  of  a  startled  cooter.  She  drew  it  from  its  rest 
and  rushed  from  the  place,  as  when  a  brown  deer,  the 
hounds  pressing  hard,  breaks  through  the  swamp 
and  the  cane  and  the  treacherous  ooze  into  the  clear 
fields  beyond. 

But  gone  now  fatigue!  The  woman  passed  the 
cabin,  with  its  crib  and  its  memories,  almost  without 
knowing  it,  and  took  the  road  back  to  the  city.  It 
would  have  been  as  well  to  crouch  there  and  wait  for 
the  buggy  or  to  have  sought  the  village,  but  wait  she 
could  not.  The  fever  was  upon  her ;  she  must  move. 
So  she  ran  cityward  to  meet  the  gray-haired  rescuer. 
Mile  after  mile  passed,  hour  after  hour,  and  still  he 
came  not.  Day  broke,  and  the  sun  rose.  A  pre 
science  of  mortal  danger  was  upon  her,  faintly  at  first, 
a  terror  at  last;  and  mastering  the  fevered  energy  of 
her  great  struggle,  it  slew  her  strength  and  hurled 
her  by  the  wayside,  to  lie  with  her  hunted  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  tree-arched  lane  overhead. 

As  thus  she  lay,  an  old  man  riding  a  flying  gray 


184  "DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SB ADDER" 

horse  rose  in  the  shadowed  light  of  the  lane,  and 
presently  burst  into  the  full  sunlight  there  before  her. 
The  thundering  feet  of  the  animal  were  almost  upon 
her  as  she  staggered  dizzily  to  her  feet  and  thrust  up 
ward  the  knife.  Wonder  shone  in  the  face  of  the 
rider  as,  divining  the  truth,  he  caught  the  weapon 
and  passed  swiftly  from  her  view.  A  smile  came  over 
her  wan  face.  "  'En  de  valley  an'  de  shadder/"  she 
whispered  feebly,  then  set  her  feet  towards  home. 

Tired?  Yes,  tired  near  unto  death,  but  leaning 
upon  a  rod  and  a  staff  that  mortal  vision  could  not 
compass. 


IV. 

IT  was  a  sultry  noon,  and  Jeffersonville  was  brisk. 
As  Jeffersonville  is  brisk  only  during  the  court  week, 
when  the  lawyers  from  Macon  ride  down  to  look  after 
the  warehousemen's  mortgages,  and  the  leading  attor 
neys  from  the  adjoining  counties  run  over  to  look 
after  the  Macon  lawyers  and  attend  to  the  criminal 
docket,  it  may  be  inferred  that  court  was  in  session. 

About  the  large,  white,  square  frame  building  with 
its  green  blinds  and  three  entrances,  little  groups  of 
farmers  were  gathered  and  many  unhitched  teams 
were  visible.  Within  the  one  great  room  that  takes 
up  the  whole  of  the  first  floor,  and  from  which  ascend 
steps  to  the  various  county  offices  above,  were  the 
usual  court-house  habitues, — jurors  who  hope  in  vain 
to  "  get  off,"  and  citizens  of  limited  income  who  yet 
hope  to  "  get  on."  In  front  of  the  door  was  the 
judge's  elevated  desk,  with  the  clerk  lower  down, 
whose  feet  rested  in  a  chair  while  his  mouth  twisted 
a  tooth-pick.  The  midday  meal  had  just  ended,  and 
the  court  had  not  reentered.  To  the  right  and  left 
were  the  jury  benches.  The  front  half  of  the  room 
was  devoted  to  the  Bar,  which  by  courtesy  included 

185 


186  "DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDElt." 

all  leading  citizens,  and  the  rear  to  negroes  and  the 
promiscuous  crowd  on  curiosity  bent. 

Apparently  there  was  nothing  exciting  on  hand 
just  then,  though  a  murder  trial  had  been  interrupted 
by  a  temporary  adjournment.  But  the  defendant  was  a 
negro,  and  a  negro  murderer  is  not  a  novelty.  While 
the  court  was  assembling,  the  curious  might  have 
noted  the  prisoner's  points.  His  face,  if  it  had  any 
marked  characteristics,  was  noted  chiefly  for  its  sin 
gularly  inexpressive  lines,  and  his  attitude  was  one  of 
supreme  indifference.  His  stout,  heavy  frame  was 
clad  in  a  common  jean  suit  stained  with  months  of 
wear,  and  his  kinky  hair  was  liberally  sprinkled  over 
with  gray.  He  sat  quietly  in  his  place,  not  even 
affecting  stolidity,  but  suffering  his  eyes  to  roam  from 
face  to  face  as  the  genial  conversation  drifted  about 
in  the  group  around  him.  He  was  evidently  not  im 
pressed  by  any  sense  of  peril,  though  when  the  court 
had  adjourned,  a  clear  case  of  murder  had  been 
proved  against  him,  and  only  his  statement  and  the 
argument  remained. 

Slowly  the  court  assembled.  The  prisoner's  coun 
sel  had  introduced  no  testimony.  A  man  had  been 
stabbed  by  his  client,  had  fallen  dead,  his  hand 
clasped  over  the  wound  ;  and  from  beneath  this  hand, 
when  convulsively  loosened,  a  knife  had  dropped, 
which  the  defendant's  wife  seized  and  concealed. 
This  had  been  proved  by  the  state's  witnesses. 


"DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER"  IgJ 

The  prisoner  took  the  stand  to  make  his  statement. 
He  declared  emphatically  that  the  deceased,  knife  in 
hand,  had  assaulted  him  and  that  he  had  killed  him 
in  self-defense ;  that  the  knife  which  fell  from  the 
relaxing  hand  was  the  dead  man's.  He  told  the  story 
simply,  and  as  he  began  it  a  tall,  thick-set  gentleman 
in  a  gray  suit,  with  iron-gray  hair,  and  walking  with 
the  aid  of  a  stout  stick,  entered  the  room  and  stood 
silent  by  the  door, —  heard  him  through,  losing  never 
a  word.  As  the  prisoner  resumed  his  seat  the  new 
comer  entered  within  the  rail.  He  shook  hands 
gravely  with  several  of  the  older  lawyers,  and  took 
the  hand  that  the  court  extended  over  the  desk.  Then 
he  turned  and,  to  the  astonishment  of  every  one, 
shook  hands  with  the  defendant,  into  whose  face  a 
light  had  suddenly  dawned  which  resolved  itself  into 
a  broad,  silent  grin.  This  done,  the  old  gentleman 
seated  himself  near  the  defendant's  lawyer,  and,  rest 
ing  his  hand  upon  his  massive  cane,  listened  atten 
tively  to  the  speech. 

The  speaker  was  not  verbose.  He  rapidly  summed 
up,  and  laid  his  case  before  the  jury  in  its  best  light. 
Really  there  was  not  a  great  deal  to  say,  and  he  soon 
reached  his  peroration.  He  pictured  the  blasted 
home  of  the  poor  negro,  his  wife  and  babe  deprived 
of  his  labor,  and  dwelt  long  upon  the  good  name  he 
had  always  borne.  In  the  midst  of  the  most  eloquent 
periods,  wherein  he  referred  to  the  prisoner  "  sitting 


188  "1>E    VALLEY  J.Y'   DE  SHADDER." 

before  you,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  broken -hearted 
and  borne  down  by  the  weight  of  this  horrible 
tragedy,"  he  turned  and  extended  his  hand  to  where 
his  client  sat.  A  sight  met  his  glance  that  sent  the 
flush  of  confusion  to  his  face  and  started  a  ripple  of 
laughter  around  the  room.  The  "broken-hearted" 
was  calmly  munching  away  on  an  enormous  ginger- 
cake,  the  liberal  moon  in  which  proved  the  vigor  of 
his  appetite.  The  eloquence  of  the  speaker  was  fatally 
chilled.  He  stammered,  repeated,  hesitated,  and  was 
lost.  After  an  awkward  summing  up,  he  took  his 
hat  and  books  and  precipitately  retired  to  a  secluded 
part  of  the  room.  He  had  been  appointed  by  the 
court  to  defend  the  prisoner  and  had  made  consider 
able  preparation,  even  to  the  extent  of  training  his 
client  when  to  weep. 

The  solicitor  arose,  and  with  a  few  cold  words  swept 
away  the  cobwebs  of  the  case.  The  man  had  stabbed 
another  wantonly.  If  the  knife  was  the  property  of 
the  deceased,  why  was  it  not  produced  in  court?  — 
the  defendant's  wife  had  picked  it  up. 

He  passed  the  case  to  the  jury,  and  the  judge  pre 
pared  to  deliver  his  charge,  when  the  old  gentleman 
in  gray  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  If  your  Honor  please,"  he  said  in  a  deep  tone,  the 
honesty  and  purpose  of  which  drew  every  eye  upon 
him,  "  the  prisoner  is  entitled  to  the  closing,  and  in 
the  absence  of  other  counsel  I  beg  that  you  mark  my 


"DE   VALLEY  AN1  DE  SRADDER."  189 

name  for  the  defense.  With  the  permission  of  my 
young  friend  who  has  so  cleverly  stated  the  defense, 
I  will  speak  upon  the  case." 

"  Mr.  Clerk/'  said  the  court,  "  mark  General  Robert 
Thomas  for  the  defense."  The  silence  was  absolute. 
The  jurymen  moved  in  their  seats.  Something  new 
was  coming.  The  old  gentleman  laid  his  hat  and 
stick  upon  the  table,  and  drawing  himself  up  to  his 
great  height  fixed  his  bright  eye  upon  first  one  and 
then  another  of  the  jury,  looking  down  into  their 
very  hearts.  Only  this  old  man,  grim,  gray,  and 
majestically  defiant,  stood  between  the  negro  behind 
him  and  the  grave.  The  fact  seemed  to  speak  out  of 
the  silence  to  every  man  on  that  bench.  Suddenly 
his  lips  opened,  and  he  said  with  quick  but  quiet 
energy : 

"  The  knife  that  was  found  by  the  dead  man's  side 
was  his  own.  He  had  drawn  it  before  he  was  stabbed. 
Ben  Thomas  is  a  brave  man,  a  strong  man ;  he  would 
not  have  used  a  weapon  on  him  unarmed ! "  As  he 
spoke  he  drew  from  his  bosom  a  long,  keen  knife,  and 
gently  rested  its  point  upon  the  table.  The  solicitor's 
watchful  eye  was  upon  him.  The  attention  of  all  was 
gained,  and  the  silence  was  intense.  "  It  has  been 
asked,  Where  is  the  dead  man's  knife  ?  Let  me  give 
you  my  theory :  When  Bill  Fowler  staggered  back 
under  the  blow  of  Ben  Thomas,  clutching  his  wound, 
and  the  knife  fell  to  the  ground,  the  lightning's  flash 


190  "DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER." 

was  not  quicker  than  the  change  born  in  a  moment 
in  the  bosom  of  that  erring  woman,  the  unwitting 
cause  of  the  tragedy.  Up  to  that  moment  she  had 
been  weak  and  yielding;  she  had  turned  aside  from 
the  little  home,  that  should  have  been  her  all,  to  gam 
ble  with  strange  men;  to  tread  the  dangerous  paths 
which  beset  the  one  safe  road  a  true  woman's  feet 
may  know.  It  had  thrown  a  shadow  over  the  humble 
home;  the  husband  drunk  upon  its  porch  was  the 
mute  evidence  of  its  presence.  In  the  awful  moment 
of  that  tragedy,  when  the  dancers  stood  horrified,  this 
woman  became,  as  by  an  inspiration,  a  wife  again. 
Deceived  herself,  she  caught  up  the  tell-tale  knife  and 
hurled  it  into  the  swamp,  destroying  the  evidence  of 
her  husband's  innocence  when  she  sought  to  conceal 
one  evidence  of  his  guilt.  This,  I  say,  is  a  theory. 
You  remember  her  cry  was,  l  Run!"  His  listeners 
stirred,  and  a  whisper  went  round  the  room. 

"  But  there  is  other  evidence,  gentlemen  of  the  jury. 
Should  I  be  forced  to  ask  for  a  new  trial,  it  will  be  de 
veloped  that  this  poor  woman,  repentant  now,  thank 
God!  walked  in  three  days  from  the  scene  of  that 
tragedy  to  my  home,  seventy  miles  away,  to  ask 
my  aid  and  counsel ;  that,  eluding  me  in  Macon, 
though  footsore  and  weary  and  crazed  with  grief,  she 
returned  by  night  to  that  swamp,  and  laboring  under 
an  excitement  as  intense  as  the  first,  that  brought  the 
scene  before  her  so  vividly  that  she  was  enabled  to 


"DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  8HADDJBS"  191 

find  the  knife,  did  find  it,  and  but  that  an  accident  to 
my  vehicle  delayed  me  it  would  have  been  offered 
here  in  evidence " 

"May  it  please  your  Honor," said  the  solicitor,  "much 
as  I  dislike  to  interrupt  the  honorable  gentleman,  I  do 
not  think  it  is  proper  to  introduce  with  the  argument 
evidence  that  has  not  been  offered  upon  trial." 

"If  your  Honor  please,"  —  and  the  speaker  turned 
to  the  prosecuting  officer  with  quiet  dignity  and 
gentleness  that  disarmed  him  at  once, —  "a  decision 
upon  such  a  proposition  is  not  needed.  I  willingly 
admit  what  is  claimed.  But,  sir,  I  offer  no  evidence, 
not  even  this  knife,  with  the  name  of  the  deceased 
upon  it,  though  it  comes  to  me  direct  from  the  hand 
of  the  woman  who,  it  has  been  proved,  snatched 
almost  from  under  his  hand  a  weapon  when  he  fell 
to  the  ground.  I  am  but  arguing  a  theory  to  account 
for  the  facts  that  have  been  proved.  But,  gentlemen 
of  the  jury,"  —  and  the  knife  fell  to  the  table  as  he 
turned  away  from  it, —  "  not  upon  this  theory,  not  upon 
these  facts,  do  I  base  the  assertion  that  the  deceased 
had  a  knife  in  his  hand  when  he  made  the  assault, — 
I  speak  from  a  knowledge  of  men.  Ben  Thomas 
would  never  have  stabbed  an  unarmed  man."  The 
General  looked  around  slowly  and  searched  the  court 
house  with  his  eye,  as  if  daring  contradiction.  "  Why 
do  I  say  this  ? "  he  continued,  turning  to  the  court. 
"  Because  I  know  he  is  as  brave  a  man  as  ever  faced 


192  "DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SKADDER." 

death;  a  faithful  man;  a  powerful  man,  and  con 
scious  of  his  power.  Such  men  do  not  use  weapons 
upon  unarmed  assailants."  The  audience  stirred  in 
their  seats.  The  speaker  turned  again  to  the  jury. 
"  I  speak  to  men  who  reason.  True  reasoning  with 
such  is  as  strong  as  proof.  A  brave  man  who  is  full 
of  strength  never  draws  a  weapon  to  repel  a  simple 
assault.  The  defendant  drew  when  he  saw  a  glitter 
ing  knife  in  the  hand  of  his  foe, —  not  from  fear,  be 
cause  he  could  ha,ve  fled,  but  to  equalize  the  combat. 
He  was  cool  and  calm ;  you  know  the  result. 

"  Why  do  I  say  he  is  brave  ?  Every  man  on  this 
jury  shouldered  his  musket  during  the  war.  Most  of 
you  followed  the  lamented  Pickett.  Some  perhaps 
were  at  Gettysburg."  Two  or  three  heads  nodded 
assent.  "  I  was  there  too  !"  A  murmur  of  applause 
ran  round  the  room, — the  old  man's  war  record  was 
a  household  legend.  It  is  even  said  that  the  court 
joined  in.  "  I,  and  the  only  brother  God  ever  gave 
me."  The  veteran  bowed  his  head ;  his  voice  sank  to 
a  whisper.  "  A  part  of  him  is  there  yet," —  his  hand 
shook  slightly  as  he  moved  his  cane  farther  on  the 
desk,  and  rested  upon  the  Code, — "  a  part  of  him,  but 
not  all ;  for,  God  be  praised,  we  picked  up  whatever 
was  left  of  him  and  brought  it  back  to  Georgia. 

"I  well  remember  that  fight.  The  enemy  stood 
brave  and  determined,  and  met  our  charges  with  a 
courage  and  grit  that  could  not  be  shaken.  Line 


See,  if  I  speak  not  the  truth!" 


"DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER."  193 

after  line  melted  away  during  those  days,  and  at  last 
came  Pickett's  charge.  When  that  magnificent  com 
mand  went  in,  a  negro  man,  an  humble  African,  a 
captain's  body-servant,  stood  behind  it,  shading  his 
eyes  with  his  hand,  waiting.  You  know  the  result. 
Out  of  that  vortex  of  flame,  and  that  storm  of  lead 
and  iron  a  handful  drifted  back.  From  one  to  another 
this  man  of  black  skin  ran,  then  turned  and  followed 
in  the  track  of  the  charge.  On,  on,  he  went,  under 
my  very  glass,  for  it  was  my  misfortune  to  stay 
behind ;  on  through  the  smoke  and  the  flame ;  gone 
one  moment  and  in  sight  the  next ;  on  up  to  the  flam 
ing  cannon  themselves.  Then  there  he  bent  and  lifted 
a  form  from  the  ground.  Together  they  fell  and  rose, 
and  this  three  times,  until,  meeting  them  half-way, 
I  took  the  burden  from  the  hero  and  myself  bore  it  on 
to  safety.  That  burden  was  the  senseless  form  of  my 
brother," — here  he  turned  and  walked  rapidly  to  the 
prisoner,  his  hand  lifted  on  high,  his  voice  ringing 
like  a  trumpet, — "gashed,  and  bleeding,  and  mangled, 
but  alive,  thank  God  !  And  the  man  who  bore  him  out, 
who  came  to  me  with  him  in  his  arms  as  a  mother 
would  carry  a  sick  child,  himself  shot  with  the  frag 
ment  of  a  shell  until  his  great  heart  was  almost 
dropping  from  his  breast, —  that  man,  O  my  friends, 
sits  here  under  my  hand!  See,  if  I  speak  not  the 
truth ! "  He  tore  open  the  prisoner's  shirt  and  laid 
bare  his  breast,  on  which  the  silent  splendor  of  the 

17 


194  "DE   VALLEY  AN'  DE  SHADDER." 

afternoon  sun  streamed  in  like  a  smile  from  heaven. 
A  great  ragged  seam  marked  it  from  left  to  right. 
"  Look ! "  he  cried,  "  and  bless  the  sight,  for  that  scar 
was  won  by  a  slave  in  an  hour  that  tried  the  souls  of 
freemen  and  put  to  its  highest  test  the  best  manhood 
of  the  South.  No  man  who  wins'  such  wounds  can 
thrust  a  knife  into  an  unarmed  assailant.  I  have 
come  seventy  miles  in  my  old  age  and  my  sorrow 
to  say  it." 

It  may  have  been  contrary  to  the  evidence,  but  the 
jury,  without  leaving  their  seats,  returned  a  verdict 
of  "  not  guilty,"  and  the  solicitor,  who  bore  a  scar  on 
his  own  face,  smiled  as  he  received  it. 

"  The  prisoner,"  said  the  court,  rapping  for  order, 
"  is  discharged." 

"  Yes,  sah,"  said  Ben,  rising  and  flashing  a  set  of 
dazzling  ivories  at  the  judge.  "I  knowed  hit  uz  all 
right  soon  es  I  laid  eyes  on  Marse  Bob's  ole  gray 
head." 

He  went  over  and  clasped  the  old  Colonel's  hand 
in  both  of  his,  giving  expression  also  to  a  loud 
laugh.  "One  mo'  time — me  an'  you,  Marse  Bob, 
one  mo7  time  !  How  Ole  Miss  gittin'  on  ?  "  The  old 
man's  reply  was  inaudible;  he  spoke  very  gently, 
and  with  his  chin  upon  his  breast.  Ben  started  back, 
changed  at  once.  "Dead!"  he  exclaimed.  "  Died  las' 
week !  Nobody  never  tole  old  Ben."  His  words  were 
heard  by  all  present,  who  were  sharing  in  his  joy, 


"DE   VALLEY  AN'   DE  SHADDER."  195 

and  silence  fell  upon  the  crowd.  He  regarded  his 
friend  mutely  for  a  few  moments,  then  with  his 
hand  over  his  eyes  went  back  to  his  seat.  "  Young 
Marster,"  he  said  to  a  lawyer  there,  "  gimme  dat  hat 
down  deir  on  de  flo',  pleas' ! "  At  the  gateway  to  the 
inner  court,  he  turned  once  more  and  made  a  rude 
gesture  inclusive  of  all  present.  "Judge,"  he  said 
simply,  "  an'  gemmen,  I  'm  ve'y  much  'bliged  ter  yer 
all.  Yer  stood  up  ter  Ole  Marse  Bob,  an'  yer  done 
me  er  good  turn  too."  He  went  out  with  his  face 
averted. 

THE  evening  shadows  gather  over  Black  Ankle.  A 
young  woman  with  a  baby  at  her  breast  sits,  weary 
of  eye  and  limb,  under  the  spreading  gum-tree  by  the 
spring.  Slowly  the  yellow  rooster  leads  his  followers 
up  the  rail  to  the  shed,  and  the  lean  cow  at  the 
picket-gate  lows  for  entrance.  Suddenly  out  of  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  —  of  death  itself — a  man  comes 
and  rests  his  hand  upon  the  woman's  head.  Then  the 
twilight  deepens,  and  we  see  them  no  more. 


"MINC"— A  PLOT. 


trim  little  steamboat  that  plies 
Lake  Harris,  the  loveliest  of  all 
Florida  waters,  emerged  from  the 
picturesque  avenue  of  cypress  and 
trailing  moss  called  Dead  River, 
which  leads  out  of  Eustis,  and  glided  as  a  shadow  be 
twixt  sea  and  sky  toward  its  harbor,  fourteen  miles 
away.  It  had  been  the  perfection  of  a  May  day,  and 
the  excursionists,  wearied  at  last  of  sight-seeing,  were 
gathered  upon  the  forward  deck.  The  water-slopes 
of  the  highlands  on  the  right,  with  their  dark  lines  of 
orange-trees  and  their  nestling  cottages,  lay  restful  in 
the  evening  shadow  fast  stretching  out  toward  the 
boat,  for  the  sun  was  dipping  below  the  horizon  with 
the  stately  pines  in  silhouette  upon  his  broad  red  face. 
"  Home,  Sweet  Home,"  "  Old  Kentucky  Home,"  and 
"Old  Folks  at  Home"  had  been  rendered  by  the 
singers  of  the  party  with  that  queer  mixture  of  pathos 
and  bathos  so  inseparably  connected  with  excursion 
songs,  and  a  species  of  nothing-else-to-be-done  silence 
settled  over  the  group,  broken  only  by  the  soft  throb 
of  the  engine  and  the  swish  of  dividing  waters.  Pres- 

196  . 


"MINC»—A   PLOT.  197 

ently  some  one  began  a  dissertation  upon  negro 
songs,  and  by  easy  stages  the  conversation  drifted  to 
negro  stories.  Among  the  excursionists  sat  a  gray- 
haired,  tall,  soldierly  looking  gentleman  whom  every 
one  called  "  Colonel,"  and  whose  kindly  eyes  beamed 
out  from  under  his  soft  felt  hat  in  paternal  friendli 
ness  upon  all. 

"  It  is  somewhat  singular,"  he  said  at  length,  when 
there  had  come  a  lull  in  the  conversation,  "  that  none 
of  the  story- writers  have  ever  dealt  with  the  negro 
as  a  resident  of  two  continents.  Why  could  not  a 
good  story  be  written,  the  scene  laid  partly  in  Africa 
and  partly  in  the  South  ?  I  am  not  familiar  enough 
with  the  literature  of  this  kind  and  the  romances 
that  have  been  written  about  our  darkies  to  say  posi 
tively  that  it  has  not  been  already  done,  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  opportunity  to  develop  a  character 
from  the  savage  to  the  civilized  state  is  very  fine  and 
would  take  well.  Victor  Hugo  has  a  negro  in  one  of 
his  West  India  romances  whose  name  I  forget  now  — 
the  story  used  to  be  familiar " 

"  Bug-Jargal,"  suggested  some  one. 

".So  it  was.  But  in  this  reference  is  made  only  to 
the  man's  ancestry ;  and  I  never  thought  the  charac 
ter  true  to  life.  Hugo  did  not  know  the  negro." 

"  But,  Colonel,  is  it  not  true  that  these  people  were 
the  veriest  savages,  and  would  it  not  be  too  great  a 
strain  upon  the  realistic  ideas  of  the  day  to  venture 


198  "MINC"—  A   PLOT. 

into  Africa  for  a  hero,  especially  since  Rider  Hag 
gard  has  idealized  it  ? " 

"  I  don't  think  so.  We  have  no  way  of  ascertain 
ing  just  how  much  the  imported  slaves  really  knew, 
but  it  is  a  fact  that  a  few  were  remarkable  for  some 
kind  of  skill  and  intelligence.  They  were  not  com 
municative,  and  soon  drifted  into  the  dialect  of 
their  new  neighbors,  forgetting  their  own.  I  had  a 
negro  on  my  plantation  who  undoubtedly  came  from 
Africa.  I  was  present  when  my  father  bought  him 
upon  the  streets  of  Savannah,  becoming  interested  in 
his  story  soon  after  he  was  landed.  His  mother  was 
described  as  a  sort  of  priestess  —  or,  as  we  say,  a 
Voodoo  —  in  her  native  land,  which  was  near  the 
western  coast  of  Africa,  some  twelve  hundred  miles 
north  of  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  Her  influence  for  evil, 
it  seems,  was  so  remarkable  that  as  soon  as  possible 
she  was  separated  from  the  cargo  and  sent  on  to  one 
of  the  Gulf  ports.  This  fellow  was  then  probably 
about  thirty  years  old  —  a  little  jet-black  man  with 
small,  bright  eyes  of  remarkable  brilliancy.  He 
seemed  very  glad  to  go  with  us,  and,  I  may  add, 
never  at  any  time  afterward  did  he  ever  give  trouble, 
but  did  readily  what  was  required  of  him.  He  seemed 
to  take  a  fancy  to  me  from  the  first,  and  his  love  —  I 
say  love,  for  I  believe  it  was  genuine  affection  — 
gradually  extended  to  all  white  children.  For  chil 
dren  of  his  own  color  —  I  won't  say  race,  for  in  many 


"MING"— A  PLOT.  199 

respects  he  differed  from  the  ordinary  negro — he 
entertained  the  liveliest  disgust.  Now  a  story-writer 
could  take  that  slave  and  with  the  help  I  might  give 
him  —  his  life  with  us,  his  peculiarities,  powers,  cer 
tain  singular  coincidences,  and  the  manner  of  his 
death  —  weave  a  very  interesting  romance." 

"  O  Colonel,  do  tell  us  the  story ! "  The  appeal 
came  in  the  shape  of  a  chorus  from  the  ladies  pres 
ent,  and  was  at  once  reenforced  by  the  others.  A 
pair  of  sweethearts  who  had  been  leaning  over  the 
bow  came  slowly  back  on  hearing  it,  and  added  their 
solicitations.  The  genial  old  gentleman  laughed  and 
looked  out  upon  the  waters. 

"  I  did  not  know  I  was  spreading  a  net  for  my  own 
feet,"  he  said.  "  The  story  of  this  fellow  would 
require  half  a  night,  even  were  I  able  to  put  it  in 
shape,  but  I  can  give  a  rough  outline  of  some  feat 
ures  of  it.  'Mine,'  as  he  was  called,  though  his 
name  as  near  as  I  can  imitate  his  pronunciation  was 
'Meeng'r,' — Mine  was  for  a  long  time  a  sort  of  ele 
phant  on  the  family's  hands.  My  mother  was  a  little 
afraid  of  him,  I  think,  and  the  negroes  themselves 
never  did  entirely  overcome  their  respect  for  him 
enough  to  treat  him  exactly  as  one  of  them,  although, 
as  I  have  intimated,  he  was  perfectly  harmless. 

"  Mine,  however,  one  day  exhibited  a  strange  power 
over  animals  which  is  even  now  a  mystery  to  me.  He 
could  take  a  drove  of  hogs  and  by  a  series  of  queer 


200  "MINC"—A   PLOT. 

little  sounds,  half  grunts,  half  groans,  reduce  them  to 
submission  and  drive  them  where  he  would.  Gradu 
ally,  as  the  rules  for  feeding  and  taking  care  of  them 
became  known  to  him,  he  was  given  charge  of  the 
plantation  hogs,  of  which  there  were  five  or  six  hun 
dred,  and  no  small  responsibility  it  was.  I  remember 
he  at  once  fashioned  him  a  little  instrument  from  the 
horn  of  a  yearling ;  with  this  he  could  go  into  the 
swamp  and  by  a  few  notes  thereon  call  them  up  on 
the  run.  That  one  horn  lasted  him  all  his  life,  and  he 
was  with  us  thirty  odd  years.  He  used  to  wear  it  hung 
round  his  neck  by  a  string,  and  it  was  the  one  posses 
sion  that  the  children  could  not  get  away  from  him 
for  even  a  moment.  I  think  that  probably  some 
superstition  restrained  him. 

"  Another  queer  power  possessed  by  Mine  was  in 
connection  with  grasshoppers.  I  have  seen  him  hun 
dreds  of  times  go  into  the  orchard  where  the  crab 
grass  was  tali,  and  standing  perfectly  still  give  forth 
from  his  chest  a  musical  humming  sound.  If  there 
were  any  big  brown  grasshoppers  within  hearing 
they  would  fly  up,  dart  about  and  light  upon  him. 
Sometimes  he  would  let  me  stand  by  him,  and  then 
the  grasshoppers  would  come  to  me  also ;  but  Mine 
could  catch  them  without  any  trouble,  while  any 
movement  from  my  hand  drove  them  off.  Mine," 
continued  the  speaker,  laughing  softly,  "  used  to  eat 
the  things," — exclamations  from  the  ladies, — "and  I 


Mine's  Cabin. 


"MINC"—A   PLOT.  201 

am  told  that  certain  tribes  in  Africa  are  very  fond  of 
them." 

"  Boiled  in  a  bag  and  eaten  with  salt  they  are  not 
bad/'  said  a  young  gentleman  with  the  reputation  of 
having  been  everywhere.  ''  I  have  eaten  what  was 
probably  the  same  insect,  though  under  the  name  of 
locusts."  (More  exclamations.)  "  Why  not  ? "  he  added 
in  defense.  "  Can  anything  be  worse  to  look  upon 
than  shrimps  ? " 

"  Well,"  continued  the  Colonel,  "  I  soon  broke  Mine 
of  eating  them.  The  grasshoppers  were  my  favorite 
bait  for  fish,  and  Mine  developed  into  a  most  suc 
cessful  angler,  quite  abandoning  his  cane  spear  — 
though,  by  the  way,  he  was  as  certain  of  a  victim 
when  he  struck  as  was  a  fish-hawk.  I  think  the 
plantation  rations  also  had  something  to  do  with  his 
change  of  diet. 

"  Well,  as  Mine's  queer  powers  came  to  be  known 
he  was  not  greatly  sought  after  by  the  other  negroes. 
They  are  slow  to  speak  of  their  superstitions,  but  it 
soon  developed  that  they  regarded  him  as  being  in 
league  with  spirits.  He  lived  in  a  little  cabin  down 
on  the  creek  apart  from  the  others,  and  there  was  my 
favorite  haunt,  for  I  was  more  than  delighted  with 
Mine's  accomplishments,  and  Mine  was  rapidly  learn 
ing  from  me  the  use  of  many  words,  which  gave  me  a 
sort  of  proprietary  interest  in  him.  In  time  he  came 
to  speak  as  well  as  the  average  negro,  but  he  had  a 


202  "MING"— A   PLOT. 

way  of  running  his  words  together  when  excited  that 
made  him  all  but  unintelligible.  I  never  did  get 
much  information  from  him  concerning  his  former 
life.  He  did  n't  seem  to  be  able  to  convert  terms  well 
enough  to  express  himself.  He  had  lived  near  great 
swamps,  ate  fish,  was  familiar  with  the  hog  —  this 
much  I  gleaned;  and  from  time  to  time  he  would 
recognize  birds  and  animals  and  excitedly  give  me 
what  were  evidently  their  names  in  his  own  country. 
Of  course  this  all  came  to  me  at  odd  times  from  year 
to  year,  and  did  not  make  a  great  impression.  I 
remember,  though,  that  reference  to  his  capture  had 
always  a  depressing  effect  upon  him,  and  at  such 
times  he  would  go  off  about  his  work.  I  suppose  the 
memory  of  his  mother  was  the  cause  of  this ;  and  I 
soon  found  that  to  speak  to  him  of  the  matter  would 
cost  me  Mine's  company,  and  so  I  quit  bringing  up 
the  subject. 

"  The  things  in  connection  with  Mine  that  puzzled 
me  more  were  his  superstitions.  Doubtless  they  were 
taught  him  by  his  mother,  and  the  first  intimation  of 
them  I  had  was  when  he  caught  a  gopher,  and  with  a 
bit  of  wire  ground  to  an  exceedingly  fine  point  cut  on 
its  shell  a  number  of  curious  signs,  or  hieroglyphics, 
different  from  anything  I  had  ever  seen,  except  that 
there  was  a  pretty  fair  representation  of  the  sun.  He 
then  took  this  gopher  back  to  where  he  found  it  and 
turned  him  loose  at  the  entrance  of  his  burrow,  mak 
ing  gestures  indicating  that  the  gopher  was  going  fur 


"MINC"—A  PLOT.  203 

down  into  the  earth.  He  did  something  of  this  kind 
for  every  gopher  he  caught.  One  day  he  succeeded 
in  snaring  a  green-head  duck,  and  upon  its  broad 
bill  he  carved  more  hieroglyphics.  This  done,  to  my 
astonishment,  and  probably  to  the  duck's  also,  he 
tossed  the  bird  high  in  the  air  and  laughed  as  it  sped 
away.  As  the  years  went  by  I  saw  him  treat  many 
birds  after  the  same  fashion.  If  there  was  room  for 
only  one  or  two  figures  he  would  put  them  on,  and 
let  the  bird  go.  But  as  he  grew  older  Mine  ate  the 
large  majority  of  his  captures,  just  as  any  other 
negro  would. 

"Well,  many  years  passed  away;  I  grew  up  and 
married.  By  this  time  Mine  was  long  since  a  feature 
of  the  plantation.  My  children  in  time  took  my 
place  with  him,  and  many  's  the  ride  he  gave  them  in 
his  little  two-wheel  cart  behind  the  oxen.  I  should 
have  said  before  that  he  used  to  haul  corn  to  the  hogs 
when  in  distant  fields,  and  wood  for  the  house-fires  011 
the  way  back.  The  negroes  no  longer  feared  him, 
but  the  negro  children  would  run  past  his  wagon  as 
he  plodded  along  and  sing : 

'  Ole  Uuc'  Mine 

Under  th'  hill, 

His  eyes  stick  out 

Like  tater  hill. 

Juba  dis  and  Juba  dat, 

Juba  rouii'  do  kitch'n  fat, — 

Juba  ketch  cr  —  cr ' 


204  "MINC"—A  PLOT. 

"Oh,  well,  I  forget  how  the  rhyme  ran;  but  Mine 
would  stop  every  time  and  hurl  a  string  of  words  at 
them  which  no  one  could  ever  exactly  translate ;  and 
the  little  brats,  delighted  at  having  provoked  the 
outburst,  would  kick  up  their  heels  and  scamper  off. 
But  along  in  the  war,"  continued  the  Colonel,  after 
yielding  a  moment  to  a  quiet  shake  of  his  sides  over  the 
recollections  trooping  up,  "  Mine  filled  another  office. 
It  was  found  that  by  means  of  a  notched  stick,  scarcely 
two  feet  in  length,  he  could  keep  books,  so  to  say,  as 
well  as  anybody.  I  can't,  and  never  will,  I  reckon, 
fathom  the  fellow's  system.  He  often  tried  to  explain 
it ;  but  when  he  had  finished,  you  would  know  just 
about  what  you  knew  at  first  and  be  a  little  confused 
as  to  that.  But  he  never  was  known  to  make  a  mis 
take.  Sent  into  the  fields,  he  would  weigh  cotton  for 
forty  pickers  all  day  and  report  at  night  just  what 
each  picked  in  the  morning  and  evening  and  the 
sum  of  all  —  and  all  by  means  of  his  notches.  I  am 
absolutely  sure  he  brought  the  system  from  Africa, 
for  no  one  ever  was  able  to  understand  it  on  the 
plantation,  and  Mine  never  lived  a  day  off  it.  You 
will  see  the  relation  these  incidents  bear  to  my 
first  proposition  as  to  imported  negroes  being  simply 
savages. 

"  The  death  of  Mine  was  tragic  and  surrounded  by 
some  remarkable  circumstances,  and  here  again  comes 
the  story- writer's  field.  Two  years  before  his  death 


Mine's  Mother. 


"MING"— A  PLOT.  205 

Mine  had  caught  and  tamed  a  little  cooler*  about 
twice  the  size  of  a  silver  dollar.  He  would  hum  a 
queer  little  tune  for  his  pet,  and  the  thing  would 
walk  around  the  floor  for  all  the  world  as  if  he  was 
trying  to  dance.  Then  he  would  come  when  called, 
and  was  particularly  fond  of  sleeping  in  Mine's  dark 
jacket-pocket,  where  I  suspect  he  found  crumbs. 
Mine  would  sometimes  throw  him  into  the  creek  just 
in  front  of  his  cabin,  but  the  little  thing  would  scram 
ble  out  and  get  back  to  the  hut  again  if  Mine  was  in 
sight  ;  if  not,  he  staid  in  an  eddy  close  by.  You  will 
understand  directly  why  I  speak  so  particularly  of 
this.  As  the  cooter  grew  larger,  Mine  amused  him 
self  by  cutting  hieroglyphics  all  over  its  back.  Into 
these  lines  he  rubbed  dyes  of  his  own  manufacture, 
and  the  result  was  a  very  variegated  cooter.  The  old 
man  carried  him  almost  continually  in  his  pocket ; 
partly,  I  think,  because  the  animal's  antics  always 
amused  the  children,  and  partly  because  he  was 
the  cause  of  Mine's  getting  many  a  biscuit.  He 
would  frequently  come  to  the  house,  and  sitting 
on  the  back  porch  make  '  Teeta/  as  he  called  the 
cooter,  go  through  with  his  tricks.  These  gener 
ally  resulted  in  Mine's  getting  biscuit  or  cake  for 
Teeta,  and  in  his  lying  down  and  letting  the  animal 

*  "Cooter,"  the  common  name  in  the  South  for  a  species  of 
turtle  inhabiting  lagoons  and  streams.  The  burrowing  terrapin 
is  there  called  the  gopher. 

18 


20G  "MINC"—A  PLOT. 

crawl  into  his  pocket  after  it,  a  feat  that  closed  the 
performance. 

"  Well,  one  day  Mine  was  missing.  Everything 
about  his  cabin  was  in  order,  but  he  did  not  return. 
He  never  did  return.  Search  was  made,  of  course, 
and  he  was  finally  given  up.  The  negroes  dragged 
the  creek,  but  not  with  much  expectation  of  finding 
him,  for  I  am  afraid  that  some  of  them  believed  that 
Old  Nick  had  taken  him  bodily.  But  a  month  after 
ward  my  oldest  boy  was  hunting  in  the  big  swamp 
for  the  hogs,  which  had  become  badly  scattered  since 
Mine's  death,  when  in  crossing  a  tree  that  had  fallen 
over  one  of  the  many  lagoons  thereabout  whom  should 
he  see  sitting  there  but  Teeta,  watching  him  with  his 
keen  little  black  eyes,  the  patch  of  sunlight  he  had 
chosen  bringing  out  the  tattoo  marks  upon  his  shell. 
The  next  instant  Teeta  dived  off  the  log  and  disap 
peared.  Tom  came  home  and  told  of  his  adventure. 
Taking  a  party  of  negroes,  I  returned  with  him  and 
dragged  the  lagoon.  Just  where  the  cooter  had  dived 
we  found  the  body  of  poor  old  Mine.  He  had  fallen 
off  the  log,  and  becoming  entangled  in  the  sunken 
branches  had  drowned.  And  in  the  rotting  pocket 
of  his  old  jacket  we  found  the  cooter  hid  away." 

The  Colonel  raised  his  hand  as  exclamations  broke 
from  the  party. 

"  No;  you  must  let  me  finish.  The  finding  of  the 
cooter  was  not  the  most  singular  thing  connected  with 


"MINC"—  A   PLOT.  207 

the  death  of  Mine.  Upon  our  return  home  one  of  the 
superstitious  negroes,  greatly  to  my  distress,  cut  off 
Teeta's  head.  He  wanted  it  to  place  it  under  his  door 
step.  This  was  to  protect  the  place  from  old  Mine,  of 
course ;  but  I  had  the  shell  cleaned,  and  the  children 
kept  it  as  a  memento  of  the  faithful  old  slave  whom 
they  had  dearly  loved. 

"  Relating  this  story  once  to  an  eminent  traveler," 
continued  the  Colonel,  "he  suggested  that  I  should 
send  it  to  the  British  Museum  with  its  history  written 
out ;  and  going  to  New  York  soon  after,  I  carried  it 
with  me.  It  lay  forgotten,  however,  in  my  trunk,  and 
I  did  not  notice  it  again  until  one  day  I  happened  to  be 
in  New  Orleans.  There  was  then  in  that  city  an  aged 
negress,  claiming  to  be  a  Voodoo,  and  creating  con 
siderable  stir  among  the  Northern  attendants  upon 
Mardi-Gras.  I  don't  know  what  suggested  it,  but  it 
occurred  to  me  one  day  that  I  would  let  her  look  at 
the  shell.  It  was  a  mere  fancy,  or  impulse,  if  you 
will.  I  carried  it  to  her.  She  was,  indeed,  an  old 
woman,  small  in  stature,  and  bent  nearly  double. 
Without  speaking  a  word,  I  placed  the  shell  in  her 
hand.  She  gave  one  long,  fixed  look  at  it,  and 
straightened  up  as  if  casting  off  the  weight  of  half  a 
century.  Her  lips  parted,  but  she  could  not  speak. 
Then  her  form  resumed  its  crook  again,  and  placing 
her  hand  against  the  small  of  her  back,  she  gasped 
for  breath.  With  her  bright  black  eyes  fixed  upon  me 


208  "MINC"—A   PLOT. 

she  said  at  last,  after  a  violent  struggle,  'Meeng'r!' 
It  was  a  mere  whisper.  I  spent  an  hour  with  the  poor 
old  creature,  and  told  her  the  story  of  her  son's  life, 
for  it  was  undoubtedly  he.  I  gleaned  from  her  that 
the  hieroglyphics  upon  the  shell  were  taught  him  by 
her, —  what  they  signified  she  would  not  say, —  and 
that  he  had  written  them  upon  the  birds  of  the  air, 
the  beasts  of  the  field,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the 
water,  that  they  might  be  borne  to  her  wherever  hid. 
I  never  got  my  shell  back :  it  would  have  been  like 
tearing  the  miniature  of  a  dead  child  from  its  mother's 
b'osom.  And  the  old  woman,  when  I  went  to  see  her 
next  day,  had  disappeared." 
Here  the  old  gentleman  arose  and  went  forward. 


A  BORN  INVENTOE. 


I. 


'ANKY  GUNNER  replaced  her 
rapidly  cooling  iron  before  the 
coals  in  the  great  fireplace  of  her 
log-cabin,  took  up  a  fresh  one, 
spit  upon  its  smooth  surface,  and, 
satisfied  that  the  abrupt  "  teest "  that  saluted  her  ear 
indicated  the  right  temperature,  faced  her  visitor 
across  the  ironing-board. 

"  No,  I  don't  reek'n  as  how  it 's  posserbul  thet  airy 
anuther  sech  boy  do  live  on  the  face  of  the  yarth  as 
our  Bill.  The  parson  says  as  how  he  es  er  borned 
inwenter, —  whatever  thet  may  be,  w'ich  mebbe  you 
knows,  I  don't, —  an'  ter  let  'im  sperriment  all  he 
wants  ter.  Er  man  named  Franklelin,  he  says, 
would  n't  er  nev'r  diskivered  Ermeriky  'ceptin'  thet 
he  war  er  sperrimenter,  an'  ef  Collumbus  had  n't  er 
sperrimented,  folks  would  n't  er  known  to  this  day 


210  ^   BORN  INVENTOR. 

what  chain  lightnin'  's  made  outer.  Let  'im  sperri- 
ment,  says  he,  an'  let  'im  sperriment,  says  I,  an'  sper- 
riment  he  do." 

"  I  've  hearn  tell  as  how  Bill 's  powerful  handy 
'bout  the  house  with  tools,"  said  Cis'ly  Toomer. 
Dipping  her  althea  mop  in  the  tiny  tin  box  of  snuff 
and  restoring  it  to  her  mouth,  she  returned  the  box  to 
the  pocket  of  her  faded  calico  gown,  that  was  inno 
cent  of  hoop,  underskirt,  or  bustle,  and  drooped  her 
shoulders  forward  comfortably  as  she  lifted  her  yel 
low,  pinched  face.  "  Sim  says  as  how  he  made  er 
wooden  leg  fur  Jedge  Loomus'  mule  w'at  ther  rail 
road  runned  over." 

Nanky  Gunner  laughed  until  her  three  hundred 
pounds  of  avoirdupois  quivered  vigorously. 

"  Fact,  Cis'ly.  Jedge  war  erbout  ter  kill  ther  crit 
ter  w'en  Bill  walks  up  an'  lif's  his  han',  so.  '  Ef  God 
hed  er  wanted  thet  mule  killed,'  says  he,  '  he  'd  er  let 
ther  train  kill  it  dead.'  With  thet  ther  Jedge  he 
laughed.  '  Mebbe  yer  kin  mek  'im  er  wooden  leg,' 
says  'e.  '  I  kin/  says  Bill ;  an'  right  thar  Jedge 
'lowed  he  might  have  ther  critter  an'  welcome.  Well, 
sho  'nough,  Bill  tended  thet  mule,  an'  while  he  war 
er-tendin'  uv  'im  he  war  all  time  inwentin'  er  leg  ;  an' 
bimeby  he  got  ther  critter  propped  up  an'  ther 
thingermajig  stropped  on  ter  'im.  Well,  I  never  seed 
sech  er  sight  en  all  my  born  days.  Ef 't  had  n'  be'n 
fur  sorryiu'  fur  ther  critter,  I  'd  er  busted  wide  open. 


A   BORN  INVENTOR.  211 

Ther  inwention  had  er  rest  fnr  thet  critter's  stump, 
an'  er  crutch  thet  caught  it  somers  unner  ther 
shoulder,  an'  ther  strops  run  all  over  hit." 

"  Nanky  Gunner,  I  mus'  see  thet  mule  ;fo'  I  git 
back  ter  Putnum — " 

"  Lor'  bless  ye,  chile,  hit 's  done  dead  too  long  ter 
talk  erbout."  Nanky  set  her  iron  with  a  clang  upon 
its  ring  and  began  to  sprinkle  another  cotton  shirt. 
"Ye  see,  Franklelin  —  thet's  w'at  Bill  called  'im  — 
Franklelin  war  used  ter  wade  ther  crik  down  yonder 
ter  there  parstyer ;  an'  once  ther  crik  riz  powerful, 
an'  Franklelin  he  tried  ter  swim  across  like  he  used 
ter  'fo'  ther  railroad  runned  over  'im,  an'  thet 's  why 
he's  dead  —  'cause  somehow  he  couldn't  work  thet 
ar  peg  leg  edzactly  right,  an'  they  do  say  as  how  'e 
rolled  over  an'  over,  tell  bimeby  he  war  drowned  an' 
lef  er-lyin'  on  'is  back  'ith  nnthin'  er-showiu'  but 
thet  ar  peg  leg  er-p'intin'  up  at  ther  sky.  Our 
Bill  war  mighty  sorryful,  but  'e  allus  'lowed  ef  'e 
lied  er  shod  thet  wooden  foot  hit  would  er  be'ii 
diffunt." 

One  of  those  silences  common  to  country  conversa 
tions  followed  the  description  of  poor  Franklin's 
death,  and  then  Nanky  Gunner's  thoughts  rose  to  the 
surface. 

"  I  would  n't  begin  ter  name  ther  things  our  Bill 
have  inwented.  Ther  yard  an'  house  es  mighty  nigh 
full  uv  'em.  Some  uv  'em  won't  work,  ter  be  sho,  but 


212  ^  B021N  INVENTOR. 

Bill  allus  knows  w'at  ails  'em,  an'  sets  'em  by  ter  fix 
up  w'en  'e  gits  time.  He  's  er-inwentin'  er  spring- 
bucket  now  thet  '11  slide  down  hill  an'  fetch,  'er  full 
an'  back  ther  same  time  —  " 

"  Es  'e  iuwentiu'  hit  right  now  ? "  Cis'ly  Toomer's 
voice  was  lifted  in  an  impressive  whisper. 

"  Right  now." 

"  Lor',  how  I  'u'd  like  ter  see  'im  er-doin'  hit." 

Nanky  Gunner  replaced  her  iron  upon  the  hearth 
and  waddled  out  from  behind  her  board.  She 
touched  her  guest  upon  the  shoulder.  "  Sh-h-h-h  !  " 
she  whispered,  and  motioned  her  to  follow.  They 
passed  out  across  the  doorless  hall  into  the  other 
room,  the  boards  groaning  under  Nanky's  tiptoe  gait, 
until  they  reached  the  wall  by  the  fireplace.  There 
Nanky  placed  her  eye  to  a  crack  and  peeped  through 
into  a  tiny  shed-room  adjoining,  then  made  way  for 
Mrs.  Toomer.  A  barefooted  boy  sat  on  a  rough  work 
bench,  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  his  cheeks  in  his 
hands.  His  face  was  freckled,  his  hair  tousled,  and 
his  trousers,  cotton  shirt,  and  one  knit  suspender 
rather  dilapidated.  Before  him  was  a  framework  of 
strings,  with  two  little  boxes  to  represent  buckets. 
The  framework  extended  from  the  workbench  down 
to  the  far  corner  of  the  room.  The  boy  seemed  to 
be  a  carved  statue,  so  still  was  he,  and  so  fixed  his 
gaze. 

"  Ef  ye  lied  er  so  much  as  sneezed,"  said  Nanky 


"He  got  ther  critter  propped  up." 


A   BORN  INVENTOR.  213 

Gunner  to  her  companion  when  they  reentered  the 
first  room,  "  hit  'u'd  er  be'n  gone.  Bill  war  oncst 
on  ther  p'int  uv  inwentin'  er  thing  ter  tie  on  ther 
calf  thet  'u'd  keep  'im  Pom  suckin'  whilst  I  war  er- 
milkin'  an'  at  ther  same  time  keep  ther  flies  off  er  ole 
Brindle  too,  w'en  en  warks  Tom  an'  spoilt  hit  all. 
Bill  war  thet  disapp'inted  he  liked  ter  cried,  but  'e 
tried  ter  patch  up  suthin'  anyhow  thet  'u'd  work ; 
but  bless  yo'  soul,  'e  tied  hit  on  ther  calf  an'  the  first 
hunch  'e  made  at  ole  Brindle  ther  thing  tickled  her  en 
ther  ribs  an'  she  kicked  me  an'  the  bucket  erway 
yonder !  Sech  er  terdo  ye  never  did  see.  Him,  not 
er-knowin'  w'at  en  ther  worP  war  ailin'  uv  th'  cow, 
'u'd  trot  up  ter  suck,  an'  as  soon  as  ther  inwention 
'u'd  tech  'er  en  ther  ribs,  she  'd  carry  on  redickelus, 
er-runnin'  an'  jumpin'  like  ther  hornets  hed  'er.  I 
like  ter  laugh  myse'f  ter  death  w'en  I  got  my  win' 
Pom  th'  lick  she  gin  me." 

"  Es  Tom  er  inwenter  too  ?  " 

"  Tom  ?  Lor7,  no  !  Tom  an'  Bill  es  twins,  but  ye 
would  n't  know  they  war  blood  kin.  Tom  runs  ter 
huntin'  an'  ther  likes,  but  'e  'lows  Bill  's  got  more 
sense  en  er  day  than  ther  #'ole  Hepzibah  settlemuiit 
got  en  er  ye'r.  Hyah  comes  Pa." 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  a  barefooted  man  who,  walking  with  the  aid  of  a 
staff,  slowly  made  his  way  into  the  room.  He  was 
old  and  feeble.  His  bent  form  was  half  clad  in  rough 


214  A  BORN  INVENTOR. 

homespun,  and  he  wore  no  coat.  He  paid  no 
attention  to  either  woman,  but  pulled  a  chair  into 
the  hallway  and  sat  down  to  chew  his  quid  of 
tobacco. 

"  Pa  es  sorter  wand'rin'  en  'is  min',"  said  Nanky, 
simply,  "an'  'e  can't  hyah  ther  bes'  en  ther  worl', 
nuther.  Bill  says  es  how  some  these  days  he 's  goin' 
ter  inwent  er  thing  that  er  man  kin  hyah  with  ef  'e 
am'  even  got  er  ye'r  on  'is  head."  Nanky  set  her  iron 
aside  and  walked  to  the  window. 

"  Cis'ly  Toomer,"  she  said,  "  did  ye  ever  en  all  yo 
borned  life  hyah  th'  win'  blow  like  thet?" 

"  Oncst,"  said  her  visitor,  joining  her  and  scanning 
the  heavens  anxiously ;  "  an'  I  hope  ter  God  I  '11  never 
see  sech  another  day.  Hit  war  over  en  Putnum, 
time  uv  ther  cycleone — "  She  stopped  short.  Beyond 
the  little  valley  below  them  stretched  a  plain  two 
miles  wide,  dotted  here  and  there  with  negro  cabins. 
After  freedom  the  slaves,  when  permitted,  rebuilt 
their  cabins  near  the  particular  pieces  of  land  they 
cultivated;  and  so  it  was  with  the  great  plantation 
before  them.  What  broke  Cis'ly  Toomer's  sentence 
was  a  fearful  cloud  that  swept  out  of  the  woods  in 
the  distance  and  seemed  to  write  upon  the  plain  with 
its  long  flexible  finger.  As  it  passed  along  it  gathered 
up  trees,  fences,  cabins,  cattle,  and  dust  into  one  vast 
mass  and  strewed  them  over  its  track.  A  sudden 
darkness  fell  upon  the  two  awe-stricken  women  —  a 


A  BORN  INVENTOR.  215 

darkness  riven  by  incessant  flashes  of  lightning  that 
darted  through  the  center  of  the  storm  from  all  quar 
ters.  There  was  no  thunder,  for  the  roar  of  the 
tempest,  as  it  rolled,  was  like  Niagara  in  its  fall, 
drowning  all  other  sounds.  The  wind  about  the  cabin 
increased  to  a  hurricane ;  but  the  cyclone  had  passed. 
When  this  fact  became  apparent,  with  blanched  faces 
they  made  their  way  to  the  hall.  Grasping  his  chair 
with  both  hands,  his  eyes  riveted  upon  the  ravished 
plain,  his  chin  still  trembling,  sat  the  old  man. 


216  ^  BORN  INVENTOR. 


II. 


AFTER  some  days  Bill  resumed  work  upon  his 
spring-bucket  idea.  He  finally  succeeded  in  getting 
the  model  to  work  by  putting  a  rock  in  the  down 
bucket ;  but,  for  obvious  reasons,  this  was  not  satis 
factory.  Then  he  planned  a  plank-way  from  the 
window  forty  yards  down  the  hill  to  the  spring,  and 
a  car  on  wheels.  At  this  stage  in  the  evolution  of  the 
idea  he  was  interrupted  by  something  new,  which 
consigned  the  self -acting,  labor-saving,  traveling-buck 
ets  to  the  companionship  of  his  other  unfinished 
contrivances.  The  cyclone  had  caused  intense  excite 
ment.  The  destruction  to  life  and  property  and  the 
hair-breadth  escapes  were  absorbing  topics,  and  the 
reports  of  other  cyclones,  gathered  from  newspapers, 
were  eagerly  discussed  and  magnified.  People  began 
to  think  of  cyclone  retreats  as  refuges  in  stormy 
times.  One  day  Tom  offered  to  bet  the  seed  cotton  in 
his  patch  that  Bill  could  fix  up  something  that  would 
puzzle  any  cyclone  in  the  world ;  and  thus  the  train 
was  fired  in  the  brain  of  the  family  genius.  Some 
thing  was  needed  that  could  be  reached  quickly  with 
out  exposure  to  the  elements.  In  the  recent  storm  a 


A    BORN  IXVENTOK.  217 

negro  had  taken  refuge  in  a  cellar;  but  the  house  had 
fallen  in  and  taken  fire,  and  the  negro  had  lost  his 
life.  So  the  refuge  must  be  apart  from  the  house  to 
insure  complete  safety.  Thus  Bill  in  the  solitude  of 
his  workshop  reasoned. 

The  rough  plan  of  his  water-railroad  caught  his 
eye,  and  an  old  dairy  near  the  bottom  of  the  hill 
flashed  into  his  recollection.  Then  the  true  plan  was 
perfected  in  his  mind. 

The  Gunner  dwelling  was  upon  the  site  of  one  of 
the  great  ante-bellum  homes  that  disappeared  when 
Sherman  marched  through  Georgia,  and  the  spacious 
dairy  dug  out  of  the  hillside  and  fronting  upon  the 
little  ravine  that  ran  down  to  the  spring  was  a  monu 
ment  to  the  old  family  which  had  dwelt  there.  Bill's 
idea  was  a  covered  passage  leading  from  a  window 
down  the  hill  and  by  a  sharp  curve  into  the  dairy. 
Burning  with  the  fever  of  the  scheme,  he  communi 
cated  his  plans  to  Tom  and  secured  at  once  a  power 
ful  ally.  The  two  boys  picked  cotton  at  forty  cents  per 
hundred  for  a  neighboring  planter  and  secured  money 
enough  to  buy  the  necessary  lumber,  and  Bill  went 
to  work  upon  the  structure.  The  diameter  of  the 
shute  was  determined  by  measuring  Nanky  Gunner's 
chair-seat,  and  a  week's  hard  work  completed  the 
structure.  It  was  three  feet  wide  and  three  high, 
inside  measurement.  The  upper  end  rested  in  the 
window  and  the  lower  entered  the  old  subterranean 


19 


218  ^  HORN  INVENTOR. 

dairy,  the  rest  of  the  opening  there  being  closed  with 
stout  boards  and  dirt.  For  a  long  time  Bill  debated 
upon  a  traveling  railway  to  run  down  the  passage  he 
had  constructed,  but  the  idea  involved  new  difficul 
ties,  such  as  pulleys,  wheels,  and  ropes,  and  conse 
quently  a  considerable  outlay  of  money — something 
not  obtainable,  for  the  boys  had  bankrupted  their 
resources  in  the  purchasing  of  lumber.  Besides,  the 
fever  of  the  idea  was  hot  upon  them.  At  this  junc 
ture  Tom  offered  a  suggestion.  It  was  the  nearest 
approach  to  an  invention  he  had  ever  made. 

"  Bill,"  said  he  in  his  hearty  way,  "  folk  as  es  gittin' 
erway  Pom  er  cycleone  ain't  expected  ter  move  erbout 
in  style  like  they  were  er-gwine  ter  er  quiltin'.  All 
they  wants  ter  do  es  ter  git  up  an'  git  tell  the  things 
blows  over.  Now  hit  do  seem  ter  me  thet  ther  way 
ter  fix  thet  ar  thing  es  ter  grease  them  bottom  planks 
thar,  an'  w'en  ther  time  comes  ter  be  er-movin'  jes 
git  en  an'  scoot  down  ter  ther  bottom.  Hit  ain't 
gwine  ter  be  much  used,  an'  I  reckon  we  kin  stan' 
hit." 

Bill  surveyed  him  admiringly.  "  Tom,"  said  he, 
"  er  inwenter  hisse'f  cain't  beat  ye  on  thet." 

And  so  it  was.  One  day  when  they  had  the 
premises  clear  they  removed  the  top  planks  and 
greased  the  floorway  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  until 
a  squirrel  would  have  found  it  difficult  to  navigate 
it.  Then  they  restored  the  planks,  and  waited.  But 


A   BORN  INVENTOR.  219 

no  cyclone  came.  Nanky  Gunner  surveyed  the 
structure  many  a  day  curiously,  but  she  asked  no 
questions.  To  a  neighbor  she  said  once,  "  I  cain't  say 
thet  I  see  edzactly  as  how  ther  thing  es  gwine  ter 
work ;  but  Bill  es  er  inwenter  an'  he  knows.  He  says 
thar  ain't  no  use  en  gittin'  skeered  uv  cycleones  an' 
ther  like."  It  is  probably  not  true  that  the  boys 
prayed  for  a  storm,  but  every  wind  raised  hopes  in 
their  bosoms,  and  not  a  cloud  passed  but  brought 
suggestions. 

"  Bill,"  said  Tom  one  night  as  they  lay  awake,  "  I 
reckon  hit 's  all  right,  but  'pears  ter  me  we  hed  n't 
oughter  take  no  chances  ;  we  oughter  know." 

Bill  was  silent,  trying  to  catch  the  line  of  Tom's 
thought.  It  was  beneath  the  dignity  of  an  inventor 
to  ask  suggestions. 

Tom  continued:  "Wen  we  war  over  ter  Macon 
las'  ye'r  'ith  ther  cotton,  ye  ricolleck  how  they  used 
ter  ring  ther  bells  an'  turn  out  ther  thing  ter  put  out 
fires  'ith  w'en  ther  war  n't  no  fire  ter  put  out  ?  Er 
feller  tole  me  they  war  er-practzin'  ter  know  jes  w'at 
ter  do  ef  er  sho  'nough  fire  war  ter  come  erlong. 
Looks  like  we  oughter  practiz  fer  cycleones.  Ye 
know  Grandpa  es  contrairy,  an'  Ma  es  pow'ful 
hefty  —  "  Bill  was  all  excitement  in  an  instant,  and 
sitting  up. 

"Tom,"  said  he,  "let's  try  hit  ter-night."  But 
Tom's  judgment  was  cooler. 


220  ^  BORN  INVENTOR. 

"Hit  won't  do  ter-night.  Thar  ain't  no  win',  an' 
Ma  Vd  never  let  us  practiz  on  'er  lessen  she  war 
pow'ful  skeered.  "Wait  tell  er  big  win'  comes." 

Fortune  favored  the  inventors.  There  came  a 
week  of  heavy  rain  and  finally  one  night  a  terrific 
wind. 


A   BORN  INVENTOR.  221 


III. 


"  Nankee-e-e-e-e,  Nank  Gunner-r-r-r ! "  The  tones 
were  feminine  and  rang  out  shrilly  in  the  morning 
quiet. 

Mistress  Gunner  came  to  the  door  of  the  shed- 
room,  late  the  haunt  of  the  born  inventor.  She  had 
been  washing  clothes,  and  her  sleeves  were  rolled  up, 
exhibiting  short,  fat,  red  arms. 

"Howdy,  Cis'ly  Toomer,  howdy.  'Light,"  she 
answered  back.  Cis'ly  Toomer  guided  her  thin  plow- 
horse  under  a  tree  and  slid  to  the  ground.  The 
breeze  was  swaying  some  garments  hanging  on  the 
clothes-line  that  she  had  to  stoop  to  avoid  as  she 
approached.  Nanky  wiped  her  hand  upon  her  apron 
and  welcomed  her. 

"  Come  in,  come  in,"  she  said.  "  Hearn  ye  war 
done  gone  back  ter  Putnum.  Lemme  wring  out  these 
hyah  shirts  an'  I  '11  be  dor  e."  She  resumed  her  posi 
tion  at  the  tub,  and  from  time  to  time  turned  her 
head  as  the  conversation  went  on.  Cis'ly  looked 
about  her  as  she  took  her  seat,  and  got  out  her  snuff- 
cup  and  mop. 

"  La,  Nanky,  w'at  ye  done  'ith  Bill's  things?" 


222  ^  BORN  INVENTOR. 

"  Bill,"  said  the  woman  at  the  tub,  shaking  her 
fat  sides  a  little,  "  ain't  er-inwentin  much  these 
days." 

"  How  come  ? " 

"  Well,  Cis'ly  Toomer,  hit 's  er  long  story.  Hit  all 
come  uv  ther  cycleone  erwhile  back  an;  Bill  tryin'  ter 
inwent  suthin'  ter  beat  hit." 

"  La  sakes,  an'  would  n't  hit  work?" 

"  Work  ? "  Nanky  Gunner  rested  her  hands  on  her 
tub  and  looked  around  quickly.  "  I  reckon  ye  never 
seen  nuthin'  work  like  hit.  Hit  mighty  nigh  worked 
me  an'  Pa  ter  death." 

"  Nanky,  hush  ! " 

"  Fact.  Hit's  piled  up  thar  behin'  ther  house  now, 
but  hit  ain'  nuthin'  like  it  war  w'en  hit  war  fixed  up 
an'  ready  fur  cycleones." 

She  described  the  invention  as  it  had  existed,  and 
as  she  became  conscious  of  the  rapt  attention  of  her 
visitor,  she  exerted  her  full  powers. 

"Now,"  she  continued,  " hain't  nobody  on  yarth 
skeereder  'n  me  uv  win'.  One  night  atter  hit  hed  b'en 
er-rainin'  fur  er  week  an'  ther  win'  war  blowin' 
pow'ful,  I  war  settin'  up  an'  Pa  he  war  en  bed 
er-tryin'  tor  git  ter  sleep,  w'en  I  hearn  er  boomiu'  en 
ther  a'r  outside."  She  laughed  at  the  recollection, 
and  as  she  wrung  the  last  drop  of  moisture  from  a 
shirt,  faced  her  visitor.  "  Ever  hyah  one  uv  'em  thar 
injines  w'at  burn  coal  'stidder  wood  —  boom-m-m  f  " 


A  BORN  INVENTOR.  223 

She  imitated  the  sound  as  best  she  could.  "Well, 
they  done  got  ter  runrrin'  'em  on  ther  railroad  out 
thar  back  uv  ther  house,  an'  ther  first  one  come 
erlong  thet  night  an'  ther  boom  in'  started  'bout  ther 
time  hit  got  en  ther  big  cut.  I  never  war  skeered  as 
bad  since  ther  Lor'  made  me.  I  run  'cross  ther  room 
an'  jerked  Pa  up  en  bed.  '  Git  up,  git  up  ! '  I  hol 
lered.  Jes  then  Bill  an'  Tom  come  er-runnin'  en  too, 
yellin'  out,  '  Cycleone,  cycleone ! '  loud  as  they  conld. 
I  war  mighty  ready  ter  drop.  l  Save  Pa,  save  Pa ! ' 
I  hollered.  Pa  he  half  knowed  w'at  war  gwiue  on, 
an'  he  hollered, '  Help,  help  ! '  an  war  gittin'  out,  w'en 
ther  boys  got  'im  back  uv  'is  shoulders  an'  unner  'is 
legs  an'  run  'cross  ther  room  an'  shoved  'im  foot  fore 
most  inter  ther  iuwention.  Pa  he  hollered,  '  Heigh ! 
ho !  Nank  !  Tom  ! '  an'  war  gone.  I  got  thar  jes  en 
time  ter  see  'is  white  head  go  rouu'  ther  ben',  an'  then 
I  hearn  er  kerchunk  an'  Pa  holler,  '  Hoo-oo-oo-oo  ! ' " 
Nanky  threw  the  wet  garment  down  in  a  chair  and 
shook  with  laughter  over  the  recollection.  "  I  orter 
hed  mo'  sense ;  but  la,  w'en  er  woman  git  skeered  bad 
she  ain'  got  no  sense  't  all.  Ther  injine  then  war 
right  back  uv  ther  house,  an'  ev'ythin'  war  jes 
trimblin'.  Bill  he  yelled  out,  '  Git  en,  Ma,  git  en ; 
hit 's  er-comin' ! '  I  did  n't  wait  er  minute,  but  clum 
up  en  er  cher  an'  got  en.  Ther  boys  gimme  a  shove, 
an'  down  I  went  'ith  ther  candle  en  my  han'  berhin' 
an'  me  flat  er  back.  I  reckon  I  mighty  nigh  fill  ther 


224  A  BORN  INVENTOR. 

w'ole  inwention,  fur  I  war  techin'  ev'y  whar.  Skeered  ? 
The  cycleone  war  n't  nuthin'.  Time  I  got  ter  ther 
ben'  I  war  full  uv  splinters,  fur  Pa  lef  some,  an  w'en 
I  slid  roun'  like  er  gourd  over  ther  mill-dam  an'  hit 
en  two  feet  uv  water  down  thar,  I  war  screamin'  ter 
be  hearn  er  mile.  Tom  an'  Bill  like  ter  not  come,  hit 
skeered  them  so,  but  ther  injine  war  then  er  mighty 
nigh  shakin'  ther  pans  offen  ther  she'f,  an'  down  they 
come  too,  kerchunk  en  ther  water.  Ye  see,  they  hed 
stopped  up  ther  ole  dairy  'ith  planks  an'  dirt  tell  it 
hel'  water  like  er  well,  an'  ther  rain  hed  soaked  down. 
Ther  place  war  dark  as  pitch,  an'  w'at  'ith  me 
er-screamin'  an'  Pa  er-settin'  over  en  ther  corner 
hollerin',  '  Don't  shoot,  don't  shoot ! '  hit  like  ter 
skeered  ther  life  outer  Bill ;  an'  erbout  thet  time  it 
come  ter  'im  thet  he  had  n'  inwented  no  way  ter  git 
outer  ther  thing.  I  war  screamin',  '  Git  me  outen 
hyah,  an'  open  ther  do' ! '  an',  '  Oh,  Lordy,  my  back ! ' 
till  ther  boy  war  mighty  nigh  crazy." 

Cis'ly  Toomer  had  been  rolling  around  her  chair 
convulsed  with  laughter.  "  Nank,  how  en  ther  worl' 
did  ye  git  out  ? "  she  gasped. 

"  Tom  clum  back  up  ther  spout  atter  mighty  hard 
work  an'  took  er  ax  an'  busted  ther  dairy  open.  Me 
an'  him  pulled  Pa  out  an'  put  'im  en  bed.  Yer  never 
seed  sech  er  sight  en  yo'  life  like  Pa's  back.  We  pick 
splinters  outer  hit  tell  broad  day,  an'  all  time  'im  er- 
hollerin',  '  Don't  shoot,  don't  shoot ! '  Pa's  back  hed 


A  BOEN  INVENTOR.  225 

er  heap  er  little  white  scars  on  hit,  an'  I  reekolleck 
hearin'  tell  as  how  somebody  caught  'im  en  er  water 
melon  patch  w'en  he  war  er  boy  an'  filled  'im  full  uv 
shot  jes  as  he  war  crossin'  ther  fence.  I  reckon  ther 
splinters  sorter  brought  hit  all  back  ter  'im.  He's 
mighty  wand'rin'  en  'is  min'  nowadays."  She  took 
an  armful  of  clothes  and  went  out  to  the  line,  where 
she  continued,  elevating  her  voice  :  "  Me  an'  Bill  hed 
it  out  en  ther  shed-room  thar,  an'  w'en  I  got  done 
'ith  'iin  I  kicked  all  ther  inwentions  ter  pieces.  '  No 
more  inwentin'  en  this  house,'  says  1 ;  '  hit 's  as  much 
as  my  life  es  wuth.'  An'  I  put  'im  ter  work  nex'  day. 
See  them  two  boys  over  yonner  en  the  cotton  by  the 
p'int  uv  woods?"  Cis'ly  stood  up  and  shaded  her 
eyes  in  the  direction  indicated  by  Nanky's  extended 
hand.  "One  uv  them  es  ther  ' borned  iuweuter'"; 
and  Nanky  laughed  lightly.  "  But  hit  ain'  gwine  ter 
do  no  good,  not  er  bit.  Hit 's  still  er-workin'  en  'im, 
an'  Tom  let  out  yestiddy  thet  Bill  done  inwented  er 
thing  thet  '11  pick  mo'  cotton  en  er  day  than  ten  nig 
gers.  I  reckon  time  ther  cotton  es  all  en  I  '11  hev  ter 
move  them  tubs  out  ther  shed-room  ergin.  Boys  got 
ter  hev  ther  day,  yer  know,  an'  Bill  es  ther  baby." 


TOM'S  STRATEGY. 


I. 


'HA'  yer  gwine  do  wi'  dat  gun  ? " 
It  was  Tempy  Taylor  who  pro 
pounded  the  question,  and  she 
did  it  in  a  tone  of  voice  that 
would  have  attracted  anybody's 
attention.  She  was  a  tall,  heavy,  masculine  woman 
of  some  two  hundred  odd  pounds,  and  as  she  straight 
ened  up  over  the  washtub  under  the  chinaberry  tree 
at  the  end  of  her  cabin,  she  was  indeed  a  formidable 
looking  figure.  Her  great  black,  muscular  arms 
drooped  towards  the  scrubbing-board  that  reclined 
in  the  tub,  and  her  hands  grasped  a  wet  garment 
upon  which  she  had  been  expending  some  of  her 
prodigious  strength.  The  person  addressed  was  a 
small  old  man  whose  face  was  pretty  well  covered 
with  a  gray,  kinky  beard.  He  nervously  shifted 
the  weapon  he  bore,  an  ancient  muzzle-loading  fowl- 


TOM'S   STRATEGY.  227 

ing-piece  with  a  wire-wrapped  stock  and  reed  ram 
rod,  and  affected  an  easy  conciliatory  manner. 

"  Des  gwine  down  yauder  on  de  crik.  Ole  buck 
rabbit  down  dere  ev'y  day  'bout  dis  time.  'Spec'  he 
oughter  be  en  de  pan  time  Mammy  Jo'  git  heah  en 
de  morndin'."  The  voice  was  drawling  and  childlike 
in  its  modulations.  He  struck  the  right  chord  and 
very  skillfully.  Mammy  Jo'  was  the  mother  of  the 
Amazon  at  the  tub,  and  had  sent  word  of  her 
intended  visit.  The  little  old  man  moved  off  slowly 
with  a  peculiar  shuffling  motion.  "  Dat  'possum 
mighty  fine  back  yander,"  he  ventured,  with  a  motion 
of  his  head  towards  the  cabin,  "  but 't  ain't  gwine  ter 
las'  all  day."  As  he  passed  on  his  ear  waited  for  a 
harsh  summons,  but  heard  only  the  mutterings  of 
his  spouse  when  she  plunged  a  little  more  vigorously 
into  her  work.  The  little  strip  of  pine  woods 
towards  which  his  face  was  turned  seemed  to 
approach  at  a  snail's  pace  only,  but  he  was  afraid 
to  change  the  gait  he  had  chosen.  As  he  stepped 
at  last  into  the  friendly  cover  of  the  trees  he  stole 
a  backward  glance  over  his  shoulder,  and  then 
abruptly  quickened  his  motions.  At  the  same 
instant  his  whole  manner  changed,  and  when  pres 
ently  he  heard  his  name  echo  through  the  wood, 
borne  upon  the  imperative  tones  of  a  pair  of  pro 
digious  female  lungs,  he  laughed  aloud  and  held  on 
his  way.  The  woman  at  the  tub  talked  to  herself. 


228  TOM'S   STRATEGY. 

"  Mighty  takin'  on  'bout  Mammy  Jo'  all  er  sudd'n. 
Mammy  Jo' !  Mammy  Jo' !  Heap  he  kyar  'bout 
Mammy  Jo'/'  she  laughed  scornfully.  "  Better  be 
out  en  dat  patch  pick'n'  cott'n  or  en  dem  pease.  Ef 
hit  wuz  lef  ter  him,  dat  steer  go  'long  ter  town  ter 
be  sold,  'stidder  de  cott'n-bag.  I  know  him ;  he  can't 
fool  me.  Gi7  'im  time  an'  he  go  skipp'n'  'bout  over 
yonner  at  de  Stillson  place,  de  lyin'  little  debbil." 
She  gave  the  shirt  of  her  absent  lord  a  vicious  wring 
as  if  she  felt  him  in  it,  and  lifted  up  her  voice,  obey 
ing  a  sudden  impulse : 

"  You  Torm  ! ! !  "  There  was  no  reply  except  a  few 
echoes  that  mocked  her.  "  He  heah  me,"  she  con 
tinued,  resuming  her  labors ;  and  then  she  resumed 
too  the  thread  of  her  revery.  "  '  Morndin',  Sis'  'Lizer ; 
how  yo'  he'th  ter-day,  ma'am  ?  Morndin',  Sis'  Chloey ; 
I  hope  yer  f  eelin'  berry  well,  ma'am.' "  She  imitated 
the  insinuating,  childlike  tones  of  her  absent  spouse 
and  repeated  her  scornful  laugh.  "  Nex'  time  I  heah 
'bout  'im  gwine  over  deir,  I  '11  bre'k  ev'y  bone  en  'is 
triflin'  hide." 

But  Tom  was  thinking  no  longer  of  his  industrious 
and  indignant  spouse.  He  was  rapidly  moving  along 
the  new  line  of  departure  from  home  and  the  haunts 
of  the  buck  rabbit  in  the  creek  bottom.  He  had  a 
slight  limp,  caused  by  a  bale  of  cotton  rolling  against 
his  leg  when  he  was  young,  and  as  he  trotted  along, 
his  funny  little  figure  bobbing  up  and  down  caused 


TOM'S    STRATEGY.  229 

the  powder-horn  under  his  arm  and  the  shot-gourd 
to  swing  out  and  collide  fiercely. 

A  couple  of  miles  glided  away  thus,  when  suddenly 
out  from  under  his  feet  a  rabbit  scurried  a  few  yards 
away,  and  pricking  up  his  ears  looked  back  at  the 
rude  disturber  of  his  afternoon  ramble.  Tom  brought 
the  gun  down  across  his  knee,  cocked  it  successfully, 
the  hammer  going  back  half  a  circle  with  three  dis 
tinct  clicks,  rested  it  for  a  moment  against  a  tree, 
aimed  long  and  carefully,  and  pulled  the  trigger. 
There  was  a  deafening  explosion  ;  the  little  old  man 
staggered  back  six  feet,  the  muzzle  of  his  gun 
dropped  to  the  ground,  and  the  rabbit  sprung  high 
in  the  air,  turned  a  somersault,  and  fell  dead.  Had 
there  been  a  witness  present,  he  would  have  observed 
that  the  ground  about  the  unfortunate  animal  was 
more  or  less  torn  up  for  a  space  of  twenty  feet 
square.  Tom  rushed  in  and  secured  his  prize,  then 
carefully  reloaded  his  weapon  and  resumed  his  jour 
ney.  He  had  not  gone  far  before  a  rooster,  leading 
his  family  among  the  dead  leaves  of  some  scrub  oaks, 
straightened  up  and  uttered  an  inquiring  cackle.  At 
the  same  instant  a  hound  near  at  hand  gave  vent  to 
a  prolonged  howl,  and  barking  fiercely  galloped  out 
towards  the  new-comer.  Tom  entered  a  small  clear 
ing,  where  stood  a  log-cabin  with  a  garden  at  the 
rear,  guarded  from  a  couple  of  cadaverous-looking 
pigs  and  the  chickens  by  a  split-picket  fence  reen- 
20 


230  TOM'S    STRATEGY. 

forced  with  brush.  In  the  doorway  sat  a  young 
woman  twisting  her  hair  into  the  tight  little  rolls 
which  all  of  the  kinky-headed  race  affect  under 
the  idea  that  straight  hair  will  finally  result  there 
from. 

"  How  yer  do,  Sis'  Chayney  ?  How  yo'  he'th  ter- 
day,  ma'am?"  Tom  had  reduced  his  gait,  and  his 
voice  rose  and  fell  melodiously.  The  woman  laughed, 
showing  a  mouthful  of  dazzling  teeth. 

"  I'm  toler'ble.  Set  down.  How  yer  do,  Unc' 
Torm  ? " 

"  Des  so,  so."  He  laid  the  rabbit  on  the  single  step 
beside  her  feet  and  continued  facetiously : 

"  'Spec7  dat  rabbit  knowed  wha'  I  wuz  gwine,  an' 
des  git  right  en  de  way  ter  come  eiiong  too."  The 
woman  laughed  again.  She  stole  a  look  at  Tom  as 
she  sat  up  with  both  hands  over  her  head,  engaged 
upon  a  final  knot. 

"  How  'e  know  ?  " 

Tom  raised  his  eyebrows  and  scratched  his  ear. 

"  He  knowed  I  warn'  gwine  home,"  he  said  slowly; 
and  meeting  the  comic  look  on  his  face  with  one  of 
intelligence,  she  threw  her  head  back  and  gave 
expression  to  her  mood  again.  She  did  not  thank 
him  for  the  gift,  but  took  it  up  as  she  rose  and 
turned  it  over.  "  Rabbit  fat,"  she  said,  and  laid  it 
on  the  water-bucket  shelf,  just  inside.  "How  yer 
lef  AuntTempy?" 


TOM'S    STRATEGY.  231 

"  She  putty  well,"  said  Tom,  carelessly.  He  was 
studying  the  toe  of  his  foot  visible  through  a  rift  in 
his  well-worn  brogan.  Again  the  laugh  of  the  woman, 
this  time  from  the  inside  of  the  house,  reached  him. 

"  Tempy  gwine  ter  be  heah  en  dis  worP  w'en  you 
an'  me  done  gone,"  she  called  out.  Tom  passed  his 
hand  over  his  face  and  looked  as  if  the  idea  was 
not  a  pleasant  one.  "  Better  bring  yo'  cher  enside, 
added  the  woman  after  a  few  moments,  and  he  com 
plied.  Then  she  began  to  busy  herself  straightening 
things  in  the  simple  room,  and  as  she  worked  the 
conversation  went  on. 

"  Unc*  Josh  Sims  gwine  ter  preach  ter-morrow," 
she  said.  "  He  come  erlong  heah  des  now  an'  he  'low 
dat  he  wuz  gwine  ter  turn  all  de  niggers  over  'bout 
heah,  'count  er  dey  debblemeiit." 

"  Dey  es  er-needin'  hit,"  said  Tom.  "  Ef  I  had  er 
seen  'im  I  'd  er  got  squar*  wid  some,  sho'  's  you  born." 

"  Oom-hoo  !  An'  I  reck'n  some  seen  'im  'fo'  now 
an'  ten'  ter  dat  'head  er  you.  Maybe  some  done  got 
squar'  wid  ole  man  Torm."  She  was  passing  him  as 
she  spoke,  and  gave  him  a  sharp  slap  on  the  jaw. 


232  TOM'S    STRATEGY. 


II. 


WHEN  Tom,  warned  by  the  sinking  sun,  set  his 
face  homeward,  he  took  a  course  that  would  carry 
him  in  or  about  the  creek  bottom  to  which  he  had 
ostensibly  set  out.  His  way  led  him  by  the  log 
church  in  which  a  neighborhood  preacher  or  elder 
held  forth  every  Sunday,  except  when  the  famous 
and  eccentric  Rev.  Joshua  Sims  visited  it,  which  was 
three  or  four  times  a  year.  As  he  approached  the 
edifice,  which  stood  in  a  pine  thicket  and  boasted  of  a 
bush-arbor  awning  in  front,  he  heard  the  voice  of  a 
preacher  breaking  loudly  upon  the  afternoon  calm. 
Never  before  had  Tom  known  of  a  church  meeting  on 
Saturday  afternoon.  It  was  the  time  universally 
claimed  by  the  negroes  for  town  shopping  or  loafing 
He  knew  of  no  one  recently  dead ;  and,  besides,  had 
any  one  died  that  late  in  the  week  the  body  would 
have  been  saved  until  Sunday.  In  open-mouthed 
astonishment,  therefore,  Tom  approached  at  the  side. 
Sure  enough  "  preaching  "  was  going  on.  His  first 
impulse  was  to  enter ;  but,  still  suspicious,  he  placed 
his  eye  at  a  crevice  and  looked  through.  There  was 
only  one  person  within  the  church,  and  that  was  the 


TOM'S   STRATEGY.  233 

Eev.  Joshua  Sims.  Standing  in  the  pulpit,  he  was 
preaching  to  an  imaginary  audience  the  sermon  evi 
dently  prepared  for  the  next  day.  Tom  squatted 
down  on  his  haunches,  and  a  broad,  comprehensive 
grin  lighted  his  face  as  he  realized  the  situation. 
The  speaker  thundered  over  the  book  lying  upon  the 
pulpit,  slapping  it  vigorously  from  time  to  time,  and 
walking  from  side  to  side.  Half  of  the  Rev.  Joshua 
Sims's  success  lay  in  his  figure,  tempestuous  delivery, 
and  thrilling  tones,  and  he  knew  it.  The  sermon  was 
delivered  in  a  shout,  and  wherever  in  a  sentence  the 
speaker  sought  for  a  word  he  would  prolong  the  pre 
ceding  tone  with  "er-rer."  Sometimes  saliva  from 
his  mouth  flew  over  the  pulpit  into  the  vacant  audi 
torium,  as  foam  is  tossed  from  a  horse's  mouth. 

Tom  had  missed  the  text  and  indeed  most  of  the 
sermon,  but  this  much  reached  him  through  the 
crevice : 

"  Shake  off  yo'  weights  !  Shake  'em  off !  Dey  es 
good  ter  put  on  er  race-horse  w'en  dey  es  er-trainin' 
'im ;  but  w'en  de  time  come  ter  race  dey  must  be 
shook  off.  Ef  yer  gwine  ter  run  er  race  wid  de  deb- 
ble  shake  off  dem  weights,  an'  go  et  fum  de  drop  er 
de  hat. 

"  Shake  off  yo'  weights !  Shake  'em  off !  Sister,  ef 
hit 's  fine  clo'es,  shake  'em  off !  Shake  'em  off  !  Dey 
am'  no  fine  clo'es  in  hebben ;  de  angels  don't  wear 
iiuthin'  but  de  plaines'  kiue.  Yer  can't  run  no  race 


234  TOM'S   STRATEGY. 

wid  er  long  gown  hangin'  ter  yer  an'  er  bustle  an'  er 
hoop  er-floppin'  roun'.  Yer  can't  run  no  race  wid 
dem  sacks  an'  high  hats  an'  fedders  ter  ketch  de  win', 
an'  dem  high-heel  shoes  er-ketchin'  en  de  grass. 
Shake  'em  off !  Shake  off  yo'  weights ! 

"  Shake  off  yo'  weights !  Shake  'em  off,  brudders ! 
Yer  can't  run  er  race  wid  de  debble  an'  yer  full  er 
whisky.  Er  wise  man  'ill  take  er  gourd  er  spring 
water  at  de  start  an'  go  barefooted,  like  Moses  roun' 
de  bush,  an'  trus'  de  Lord,  when  'e  want  mo',  ter 
run  er  branch  'cross  de  road,  like  'e  does  fur  de  mule 
gwine  ter  town.  Shake  off  de  weights ;  shake  'em 
off! 

"  Shake  off  yo'  weights  !  How  does  po'  sinner  run  ? 
He  runs  wid  de  weights  on,  an'  debble  keep  right 
'long  at  'is  heels,  so  close  sinner  heah  him  laugh. 
Dey  trabble  'long  tergedder,  an'  bimeby,  ?fo'  dey  gits 
ter  de  las'  mile-pos',  debble  trip  up  po'  sinner  an'  win 
de  race.  Shake  off  yo'  weights  !  Oh,  shake  7em  off ! 

"How  do  de  righteous  run?  He  strips  off  de 
weights  an'  cuts  out.  Mos'  'fo'  yer  know  'e  gwine 
run,  'e  done  gone;  an'  debble  come  erlong  an'  find 
trail  so  cole  'e  don't  know  wha'  good  man  gone,  an' 
'e  win  de  race.  Shake  off  yo'  weights !  yer  all  got 
weights,  an'  I'm  gwine  tell  yer  'bout  'em.  Deir's 
sump'n  enside  already  tell  yer,  but  I  'm  gwine  ter 
tell  out  loud  so  ev'ybody  know  yer  been  tole."  He 
descended  from  the  pulpit  and  marched  up  to  the 


TOM'S    STRATEGY.  235 

amen  corner,  still  talking.  "  Here  's  Bre'r  Dan ! 
Here  's  Bre'r  Dan !  Bre'r  Dan  got  weights,  an'  'e 
ain'  shake  'em  off.  What  es  dem  weights's  name  ? 
Too  much  corn  en  'is  crib  fur  de  size  er  'is  crop  ! 
Too  much  cott'n  en  'is  crib  fur  de  size  er  7is  patch ! 
Too  many  chickens  en  de  pan  fur  two  hens  an'  er 
rooster!  Too  many  shotes  erbout  Chrismus  fur  er 
no-sow  man.  Shake  off  yo'  weights,  Bre'r  Dan; 
shake  'em  off !  Oh,  w'at  es  sech  er  sinner  like  ?  He 
like  er  one-legged  grasshopper,  w'a'  think  'e  es  er- 
jumpin'  somewhar,  w'en  ev'ybody  know  'e  jes  tu'nnin' 
roun'  en  de  road,  p'intin'  er  new  way  ev'y  time." 

Tom  rolled  over  on  the  ground  outside  and  kicked 
his  heels  in  the  air,  convulsed  with  laughter.  "  Some 
body  done  got  squar7  wid  Unc'  Dan,"  he  gasped.  Then 
he  quickly  rose  up  and  glued  his  eye  to  the  crack 
again.  The  preacher  was  standing  with  uplifted 
hands  over  another  imaginary  sinner. 

"  An'  heah  ole  Black  Aleck !  Bre'r  Aleck  got 
weights.  No  chutch  on  Sunday  fur  Aleck.  Mus' 
fish  tro'tline  an'  hunt  squ'r'l.  Mus'  hoe  de  gyardin  an' 
hunt  guinea-nes'  en  de  jimsun  weeds.  Mus'  do  any- 
thin'  but  heah  de  Lord's  word,  'cept'n'  ole  Unc'  Josh 
come  ter  preach.  Dem  de  weights  Bre'r  Aleck  got. 
Shake  'em  off,  er-rer!  Shake  'em  off!  Oh,  w'at  es 
sech  er  sinner  like  ?  He  like  er  las'-ye'r  wasp  'en  er 
spider  web — holler  an'  dry,  an'  'is  wings  won't  flop 
no  mo'. 


236  TOM'S    STRATEGY. 

"  An'  heah  es  Bre'r  Clay.  Heah  es  my  dear  Bre'r 
Clay.  Bre'r  Clay  got  weights.  Wat  kind  er  weights 
'e  tryin'  ter  run  wid!  Lazy  weights.  Won't  work 
cott'n-patch,  won't  work  tater-patch,  won't  work  col- 
lurd-patch,  won't  work  nowhar.  O  Lord !  did  any 
body  ever  see  er  lazy  man  win  er  race  ?  'T  ain't  gwine 
ter  he'p  yer,  Bre'r  Clay,  ter  put  on  dem  good  elo'es 
heah  an'  say  '  Amen/  an'  '  Bless  de  King,'  an'  '  He'p, 
Lord ! '  loud  'n  anybody  ef  yer  lef  de  ole  'ooman  an' 
de  chillun  ter  work  all  de  week.  Shake  off  de  weights, 
Bre'r  Clay.  Shake  'em  off  !  Oh,  w'at  es  sech  er  sin 
ner  like  ?  He  like  er  tadpole  en  er  mud-puddl',  w'at 
done  dry  up  'fo'  time  come  fur  'im  ter  drop  'is  tail  an 
be  er  frog." 

Tom  went  over  on  the  ground  while  Black  Aleck 
was  being  dealt  with,  and  he  was  too  weak  with 
laughter  to  sit  up  during  the  time  devoted  to  Clay. 
Presently  he  heard : 

"An'  heah  Sis'  Tilly.  Heah  es  dear  Sis'  Tilly. 
Wat  es  Sis'  Tilly's  weights?  She  got  weights  ter 
shake  off.  She  run  rouii'  telliu'  tales  on  oth'r  'oomen's 
husbun's " 

"  Ooom-hoo ! " 

Tom  cocked  his  head  up  as  he  uttered  this  assent 
ing  exclamation  and  listened. 

"  An'  she  scole " 

"  Dat  's  right ! " 

"  An'  mek  troubl'  ev'ywhar  she  go." 


TOM'S   STRATEGY.  237 

"  Somebody  done  got  squar'  wid  Aun'  Tilly ! "  Tom 
ducked  his  head  down  and  rolled  over  again. 

"  Shake  'em  off,  deah  sister !  Shake  'em  off !  Oh, 
w'at  es  sech  er  sinner  like  !  She  like  er  cockleburr 
en  de  tail  uv  er  dry  cowhide  an'  gone  ter  markit ;  no 
good  heah  an'  no  good  deir. 

"An'  heah  Bre'r  Torm."  The  preacher  was  right 
over  the  crevice,  and  his  voice  sounded  like  thunder 
in  the  ears  of  the  startled  eavesdropper  outside. 
"  Little  Bre'r  Torm.  He  try  in'  ter  run  wid  big 
weights.  Wat  es  Bre'r  Torm's  weights?  He  heah 
ter  se  dis  'ooman,  an'  yonder  ter  see  dat  'ooman  ;  fus' 
one  way  an'  den  ernudder,  an'  er  wife  down  yonner 
home  t'ink  'e  gone  huntin'  ev'y  time  'e  take  'is  gun." 
A  horrible  groan  broke  from  the  lips  of  the  trembling 
man  without,  and  a  cold  sweat  started  forth  all  over 
him.  In  a  frenzy  of  terror  he  raised  himself  to  his 
knees  and  brought  the  old  gun  to  full  cock.  Then 
realizing  what  he  was  doing  he  returned  the  hammer 
to  a  safer  place  with  feverish  anxiety.  The  Rev. 
Joshua  Sims  heard  nothing  but  his  own  voice. 
"Shake  'em  off,  Bre'r  Torm!  Shake  'em  off!  Yer 
can't  run  no  race  wid  dem  weights  er-hangin'  on  yer. 
Oh,  w'at  es  sech  er  sinner  like  ?  He  like  er  snake  en 
de  grass,  an'  fus'  t'ing  'e  know  'e  gwine  ter  Ian'  en  de 
fire  wid  'is  back  broke." 

Tom's  hilarity  was  all  gone.  If  that  sermon  was 
preached  on  the  morrow  he  might  not  literally  land  in 


238  TOM'S   STRATEGY. 

the  fire  with  his  back  broke,  but  his  back  would  suffer 
until  the  sensations  would  make  it  appear  so.  He 
left  almost  as  suddenly  as  his  mirth.  Gliding  into 
the  woods  he  made  his  way  to  the  bend  in  the  road, 
then,  as  if  struck  with  a  new  idea,  stopped  short  and 
took  a  seat  on  a  stump.  In  an  attitude  of  profound 
reflection  he  waited  until,  having  finished  his  sermon, 
the  preacher  came  down  the  road  with  great  dignity. 
When  he  reached  the  vicinity  of  the  little  man  the 
latter  started  suddenly,  looked  over  his  shoulder,  and 
an  affable  and  delighted  expression  dawned  upon  his 
face. 

"  How  do  yer  do,  Bre'r  Sims  ?  Lord,  I  wuz  des  er- 
sayin'  how  I  'u'd  like  ter  see  Bre'r  Sims,  an'  heah  'e 
come  er-walkin'  right  erlong."  By  this  time  he  was 
up  and  shaking  the  new-comer's  hand.  "  Wha'  yer 
gwine  dis  time  er  day  ?  "  The  Rev.  Joshua  returned 
the  greeting,  but  with  less  demonstration. 

"  Well,  I  wuz  er-gwine  down  ter  Sis'  Thomson's." 
"  Wha'  dat ! "  Tom  threw  up  both  hands  in  well- 
affected  astonishment.  "  Man,  night  ketch  yer  'fo' 
yer  git  half  way  deir  !  No,  sah ;  yer  come  erlong  wid 
me.  Tempy  '11  be  proud  ter  see  Bre'r  Sims,  an'  I 
'spect  by  now  dat  'possum  w'at  wuz  er-cookin'  'while 
back  done  got  done."  Tom  laughed,  and  slapped  his 
companion  on  the  back.  The  Rev.  Joshua  Sims  was 
a  large,  heavy  man,  with  a  round,  full  jaw  and  a  well- 
fed  look.  It  really  mattered  little  to  him  where  he 


TOM'S   STRATEGY.  239 

spent  the  night,  and  the  'possum  decided  the  point. 
He  suffered  himself  to  be  led  off.  Tom,  having  got 
ten  himself  well  under  way,  continued  gayly : 

"I  knowed  dat  'possum  up  ter  sump'n.  Las'  night 
de  rooster  call  me  ter  run  deir  quick.  Bre'r  'Possum 
wuz  squattin'  en  de  heu-hous'  des  like  'e  been  sont  fur 
an'  come;  an'  heah  't  is."  Tom  wagged  his  head 
sagaciously.  "  Oomp !  Ef  I  c'u'd  des  jump  Bre'r 
Rabbit  now,  'spect  he  'd  he'p  bre'kfus'  mightily." 
And  he  began  to  peer  around  with  a  great  show  of 
eagerness. 

"  Did  n't  yer  shoot  erwhile  back  ?  Heah  somebody 
over  yonner  'bout  Sis'  Chayney's." 

Tom  shook  his  head.  "'Spect  dat  wuz  one  dem 
Gillus  boys.  Dey  all  time  bangin'  way  over  deir. 
When  Tom  shoot,  sump'n  gwine  hang  'bout  'is  clo'es." 
He  lifted  the  gun  quickly  and  sighted  it  towards  a 
clump  of  bushes,  then  took  it  down. 

"  Dat  mullein  leaf  down  deir  fool  me.  Look  mighty 
like  er  molly-cott'n." 1  But  Brother  Sims  plodded 
along  behind  the  loquacious  little  man,  his  mind  on 
other  things  again. 

i  Babbit. 


240  TOM'S   STRATEGY. 


III. 


TEMPY  received  the  pair  graciously.  She  was  a 
devout  church  woman  on  Sundays.  Like  most  negro 
women,  she  had  infinite  respect  for  preachers;  and 
this  respect  in  the  case  of  the  Rev.  Joshua  Sims  was 
mixed  with  something  of  fear,  for  his  methods  in  the 
pulpit  were  exceedingly  pointed  and  personal,  as  has 
perhaps  been  gathered,  and  ridicule  has  a  disastrous 
effect  upon  ignorant  people.  She  vied  with  Tom  in 
attentions  to  the  shepherd.  One  placed  a  chair  near 
the  door ;  the  other  brought  a  gourd  of  water.  One 
took  his  hat  and  Bible;  the  other  got  him  a  fan. 
Presently  there  came  a  lull  in  their  ministrations,  for 
the  reason  that  there  was  nothing  left  to  be  done  for 
the  guest.  Then  Tom  plucked  the  sleeve  of  his  life 
partner  at  an  opportune  moment  and  glided  out  the 
back  door  behind  the  chicken-house.  Puzzled  by 
this  demonstration,  Tempy  looked  out  after  him. 
Presently  she  saw  his  head  thrust  out  and  his 
features  working  mysteriously.  She  took  a  pan  in 
her  hand  as  if  on  some  domestic  mission  and  went 
behind  the  chicken-house  also.  Tom  straightened  up 


TOM'S    STRATEGY.  241 

his  little  body  and  looked  her  full  in  the  face.  Her 
mountain  of  flesh  loomed  above  him,  but  his  assump 
tion  of  a  common  danger  had  made  him  bold. 

"  Put  dat  'possum  on  de  table,  Tempy,"  he  said  in 
a  tragic  whisper. 

"Wat  I  gwine  ter  put  Mamma  Jo's  'possum  on 
table  fur  ?  "  In  her  surprise  and  indignation  she  did 
not  trouble  herself  to  subdue  her  voice.  Tom  grasped 
her  with  both  hands. 

"  Sh-h-h-h ! "  he  said.  "  Don't  let  'im  heah,  Tempy  »; 
and  his  voice  was  just  audible,  while  his  features 
shifted  themselves  as  under  the  pressure  of  some 
great  emotion.  "  I  wuz  er-comiu'  'long  by  de  chutch 
des  now  an'  Bre'r  Sims  wuz  en  deir  er-preachin'  by 
hisse'f,  er-gittin'  ready  fur  ter-morrer.  He  des  gi'  dc 
niggers  de  wuss  raspin'  y'  ever  heah  —  Dan,  an'  Clay, 
an' Aleck,  an'  Sis'  Tilly — "  A  low  chuckle  escaped 
from  Tempy's  lips. 

"  Need  n'  laugh ;  he  tech  on  you  too." 

"  Wat  'e  say  'bout  me  ? " 

.  Tempy  bristled  up,  but  instantly  looked  around  as 
if  afraid  of  being  heard. 

"  Sh-h-h  !  He  gi'  yer  fits.  Can't  tell  w'at  'e  did  say. 
Somebody  been  tellin'  lies  'bout  yer,  sho'.  He  ain' 
say  nuthin'  7bout  me,  but  'e  gi'  yer  de  wuss  sort  er 
name  fur  lyin'  an'  er-tarkin'  'roun' — " 

"  Be  deir  in  one  minute  ! "     Tom  elevated  his  voice 
as  if  he  heard  the  Rev.  Joshua  Sims  calling.     "  Put 
21 


242  TOM'S    STRATEGY. 

dat  'possum  on  table,  Tempy."  Snatching  up  an  arm 
ful  of  wood  lie  went  in,  tossed  it  down  noisily  on  the 
fireplace,  and  joined  his  guest  in  the  broad  passage 
way  between  the  two  rooms  of  the  little  home. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  three  sat  down  to  eat. 
There  was  a  scarcity  of  crockery,  and  there  were 
only  two  forks,  and  all  had  to  drink  water  from  a 
single  gourd  that  hung  by  the  bucket ;  but  this  did 
not, lessen  their  enjoyment  of  the  meal.  There  was 
plenty  of  hot,  " crackling"  bread,  great  generous 
pones  that  crumbled  under  the  eager  fingers  of  the 
men ;  and  there  was  the  'possum  warmed  over,  with 
its  lialo  of  baked  sweet  potatoes,  and  all  as  brown  as 
a  partridge's  back.  The  eyes  of  the  Rev.  Joshua 
Sims  danced  at  the  sight  of  this  dish ;  and  when, 
having  quartered  the  animal,  Tom  gave  him  a  ham, 
and  poured  the  rich  brown  gravy  lavishly  over  all,  a 
happier  man  could  not  have  been  found.  Between 
his  attacks  upon  the  tempting  dish  he  began  to  tell 
of  his  adventure  some  weeks  before  at  a  baptizing. 
He  had  undertaken  to  put  Sis'  Tilly  Hunter  under 
the  water,  when  she  caught  him  around  the  legs  and 
over  they  both  went.  The  elders  pulled  Tilly  out 
by  the  heels,  and  Tilly  pulled  him.  Tom  laughed 
loudly  and  slapped  himself  on  the  legs,  and  ever 
and  anon  he  would  lay  down  his  knife  and,  over 
come  with  the  recollection  of  the  scene,  repeat  the 
performance. 


TOM'S    STRATEGY.  243 

"  Bre'r  Sims,"  he  exclaimed  to  Tempy  between  his 
paroxysms,  "  es  mighty  hard  ter  beat."  Tempy,  too, 
simulated  a  great  laugh,  but  with  poor  success. 

What  raconteur  is  not  moved  by  the  success  of  his 
stories?  Stimulated  by  the  unstinted  applause,  the 
Rev.  Joshua  Sims  was  stirred  to  further  endeavors. 

"Bre'r  Torm,"  he  said,  after  a  long  pull  at  the 
pitcher  of  persimmon  beer  that  Tempy  had  remem 
bered  to  fetch,  "  sump'n  happ'n  las'  ye'r  en  de  drouth 
dat  beat  dat.  I  wuz  er-baptizin'  Bre'r  Dick  Simins, 
an'  de  crik  wuz  mighty  low,  lemme  tell  yer,  'cause  hit 
had  n'  rain  fur  nigh  onter  eighty  days ;  an'  Bre'r  Dick 
said  de  worl'  wuz  er-gittin'  ready  to  burn  up,  an'  so  'e 
wanter  come  inter  de  chutch.  De  water  wuz  dat  low 
we  had  ter  dam  up  de  crik,  an'  den  we  tuk  Bre'r  Dick 
en,  an'  Bre'r  Jerry  Toler  an'  me  try  ter  put  'im  unner. 
Bre'r  Dick  wuz  er  might'  big  man,  an'  de  water  did  n' 
'zactly  git  up  over  'is  stumick.  Now  yer  know  er 
man  got  ter  go  clean  unner  'fo'  'is  sins  wash  erway, 
an'  Bre'r  Jerry  'lowed  dat  ef  'is  stumick  staid  out  all 
de  sins  gwine  ter  stick  right  deir  —  des  like  fleas 
come  up  on  er  dog's  head  w'en  he  go  in  de  water. 
Well,  sah,  w'en  Bre'r  Jerry  see  dat  stickin'  up  deir,  'e 
put  bof  han's  on  hit  an'  bear  down  hard.  Bre'r  Dick 
wuz  hol'in'  'is  bref  deir,  an'  w'en  'e  git  Bre'r  Jerry's 
weight  'e  blow  water  way  up  yonner  an'  say 
'Poo-oo-oo!'  an'  'is  foots  an'  head  pop  out.  Bre'r 
Jerry  put  'is  foots  back  an'  I  shove  'is  head  unner ; 


244  TOM'S    STRATEGY. 

den  'is  stumick  come  out  ergin.  Den  Bre'r  Jerry 
mash  down,  an'  Bre'r  Dick  say  '  Pooh ! '  and  pop  up 
'is  head  an'  'is  foots  des  like  'e  did  fus'  time.  Some 
body  on  de  bank  yell  out,  '  Tu'n  him  over,'  an'  we  gi' 
i'm  er  roll ;  but  bless  yo'  soul,  'is  back  rose  up  like  er 
fiddle,  an'  by  dis  time  Bre'r  Dick  wuz  mighty  nigh 
full  er  water  an'  de  dam  done  broke." 

Tom  was  ducking  his  head  about  under  the  table 
and  screaming  with  laughter,  and  the  Rev.  Joshua 
Sims  stopped  to  join  in.  Tempy  was  waving  back 
and  forth  in  her  chair,  clapping  her  hands  every  time 
her  head  came  down.  Then  Tom  gasped  for  breath, 
and  clutched  his  guest  by  the  shoulder,  turning  an 
appealing  glance  upon  him. 

"  Hush,  Bre'r  Sims ;  hush  !  " 

"Now,  wuz  Bre'r  Dick  baptize'  'cordin'  ter  de 
doctrun,  er  wuz  'e  not?  Some  sez  yes,  an'  some  sez 
no,  'cause  deir  nebber  wuz  er  time  w'en  some  er  'im 
was  n'  showin' ;  but  Bre'r  Dick  say " 

"  Wat  'e  say  ?  "     Tom  gasped  out  the  question. 

"  He  cussed  and  say  he  ain'  gwine  ter  try  hit  any 
mo' ;  an'  dat  settle  hit  wid  me.  Ef  Bre'r  Dick  had  er 
had  'is  sins  wash'  erway  he  'u'd  er  been  full  er  de 
speret  er  righteousness  an'  not  cussin'  mad." 

The  last  vestige  of  opossum,  the  last  sop  of 
gravy,  and  the  last  swallow  of  persimmon  beer  had 
disappeared  down  the  throat  of  the  distinguished 
guest  when  the  party  went  forth  under  the  china 


TOM'S   STRATEGY.  245 

tree  and  found  seats.  The  moonlight  lay  soft  upon 
the  cotton-field  —  a  silvered  silence  under  which  only 
the  crickets  and  a  single  mocking-bird  tried  to  give  a 
concert.  Tom  brought  out  a  corncob  pipe  for  the 
preacher  and  shaved  him  tobacco  from  a  plug,  and 
Tempy  brought  a  coal  of  fire  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand 
from  the  kitchen.  The  itinerant  held  forth  for  an  hour 
upon  many  subjects,  but  never  to  a  more  attentive 
and  appreciative  audience.  When  at  last  they  lay 
down  to  sleep,  Tom's  sides  really  ached,  and  a  ready- 
made  smile  clung  to  his  face  until  far  into  the  night. 
Even  after  it  vanished  it  returned  dream-summoned 
and  occupied  from  time  to  time  its  old  familiar 
place. 

Next  day  the  personal  rebuke  of  the  preacher  burst 
like  a  thunder-storm  upon  his  hearers.  Dan  was 
crushed.  Aleck  let  his  head  go  down  upon  his  hands. 
Clay  slipped  out  of  the  door,  as  soon  as  public  atten 
tion  was  drawn  from  him,  and  went  home.  Tilly 
crouched  behind  the  bench  and  hid  herself.  Few  of 
all  the  adults  there  escaped  the  lash.  But  Tom  leaned 
back  against  the  wall  with  his  eyes  half  closed  and 
Tempy  by  his  side.  A  peaceful  smile  was  upon  his 
face  —  the  same  smile  that  went  to  bed  with  him  the 
night  before.  When  Dan  was  scored  he  said  softly, 
"  Come  back  ter  de  fold,  Bre'r  Dan ;  come  back."  To 
Aleck  he  murmured  dreamily,  "  Face  de  light ! 
Face  de  light ! "  And  when  Clay  received  punish- 


246  TOM'S    STRATEGY. 

ment,  from  the  lips  of  the  serene  little  fellow  floated, 
"  Sinner,  tu'n ;  why  will  yer  die  ?  —  why  will  yer 
die?" 

When  the  Rev.  Joshua  Sims  came  in  front  of  his 
former  host  a  close  observer  might  have  noticed  that 
the  latter's  half -shut  eyes  fell  a  little  closer  and  his 
thin  sides  swelled  out  with  a  prolonged  breath ;  but 
as  the  preacher  passed  on,  the  eyelids  slowly  lifted 
again,  the  sides  sank  gently,  and  something  like  the 
restful  sigh  of  a  cow  when  she  lies  down  floated  out 
from  the  half -parted  lips  of  the  devout  little  man. 


Date  Due 


PRINTED    IN    U.S.* 


CAT.   NO.   24    161 


